


home (where I keep you warm & safe)

by INTPSlytherin_reylove97



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Alex Has Anxiety (Julie and The Phantoms), Alive Alex & Luke Patterson & Reggie (Julie and The Phantoms), Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, But It is Canon So..., Emotional Manipulation, Everyone Is Alive, F/M, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gaslighting, Gen, Good Parent Ray Molina, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent Death, Protective Luke Patterson (Julie and The Phantoms), Ray Molina accidentally semi-adopts a bunch of teens, Reggie Has Bad Parents (Julie and The Phantoms), Reggie Needs a Hug (Julie and The Phantoms), Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Strained Relationships, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:14:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 61,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26990476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INTPSlytherin_reylove97/pseuds/INTPSlytherin_reylove97
Summary: It started as a joke.“The boys are around so much, they should just live here.”But then soon enough it became a reality.Or: The Molina house accidentally becomes the home for wayward teen musicians.Or-Or: Ray Molina slowly loses his home and mind for the sake of his kids’ happiness.
Relationships: Alex & Julie Molina & Luke Patterson & Reggie, Alex/Willie (Julie and The Phantoms), Carlos Molina & Julie Molina & Julie Molina's Mother & Ray Molina, Julie Molina's Mother/Ray Molina, Julie Molina/Luke Patterson, Ray Molina & Reggie
Comments: 900
Kudos: 1527





	1. Just the Beginning...

**Author's Note:**

> Never thought I'd be writing a fic for a tween show (edit: actually lies, I've done it before but it was for a dead fandom) but JATP stole my heart and here we are.
> 
> Mind the tags, that's what they are there for friends.
> 
> BTW, everyone is ALIVE, damn it. Maybe one day I’ll write them in canon-verse but right now my boys are alive 😊 You’ll catch on as you read.
> 
> Typos will be fixed later; enjoy!

* * *

It started as a joke.

An _ongoing_ joke.

Because Ray liked to believe he was funny and teasing his daughter was a fun pass time; _why else would he have a daughter_ , he’d taunt.

As usual the boys came ambling into the house after rehearsal, their chatter and laughter filling the house. Laughter that had not been bouncing off the walls a mere six months ago, yet now a common occurrence.

Maybe letting those three boys walk about and lounge around the house like they own the place was his repayment of thanks. Until them Julie hadn’t touched a piano or sang, nor hummed, a note since her mother’s passing. But somehow three rambunctious, nosy, kind-hearted boys found their way under her skin and brought back once was lost—Julie’s passion for music.

But some days—

A yelp was heard from the living room, followed by a crash and more yelling.

“I told you not—”

“It was an accident—”

_“Tell that to the coffee table!”_

—the boys often caused more trouble than Ray accustom to. Even with his little ghost hunter and detective _Carlitos_ , Ray had never prepared himself for boys quite like Luke, Alex, and Reggie.

A blonde head of hair popped into the kitchen. “Uh—Mr. Molina, sir—how attached are you to the vase sitting in your living room?”

“It was a gift from my Great Tio Adan.”

“Oh,” Alex croaked, panic flaring in his eyes, “Is uh Great Tio Adan is he still around? Ya know—giving you vases and everything?”

“No,” Ray stated bluntly, plopping the rest of the raw ground beef into the sizzling pan. He stared down at the pan, lips pursed. One pound wasn’t enough with those boys; they inhaled tacos like their life depended on it. Another pack of ground beef would do the trick. “He died ten years ago. He was my favorite Tio.”

“Oh,” the boy’s voice trilled higher, an attempt of a calm smile shattered as he bounced a little on his feet—perhaps a nervous tick, “so the vase—is it replaceable?”

“He made it himself.” Ray raised an eyebrow at the boy, already knowing what happened before he could utter a word. “There is Krazy Glue in my office—”

“Oh my god. Thank god,” Alex blurted out, face crumpling in near tears. He dashed out, feet thundering down the hall. “ _WE CAN FIX THIS GUYS! WE CAN FIX IT!”_

A relieved cheer echoed in the house, Ray telling himself it was better to let them solve the problem than seeing the damaged caused. Instead he focused on the task at hand, making dinner. As he went to reach for California chile powered and cumin, the spices were handed off to him by his unofficial sou chef.

“What’s up, Ray!” Reggie cheered, bumping shoulders with the older man. He peered over his shoulder, taking a loud sniff of the aroma of spices and chile rising from the stove. A giddy hum rumbled through the boy. “I love taco night.”

Thankfully not all the kids were causing chaos in the living room. While Reggie could be his own ball of energy, he always found his way into the kitchen after the band’s evening rehearsals, wanting to be a helping hand wherever he could be.

There was also the fact the boy enjoyed taste tasting everything within his reach.

“Oo! Did you just make that salsa? Can I—” A chip full of _pico_ was eaten with great ferocity, Reggie happy to help himself to more as he finished off his first, second, and third chip.

Ray did not have the heart to stop him from of spoiling his dinner. The boy was always eating; he could never deny him the comforts of homemade food. He had pulled up a kitchen stool and ate, rambling about rehearsal knowing Ray would lend an ear.

Just as Reggie was making it to the halfway mark on the newly purchased—and devoured—bag of tortilla chips, Julie came into the kitchen. Beelining to the cabinets, she began to collect plates for dinner, nudging Reggie to join her as she passed by.

“ _Did you ask him_?” she hissed, attempting to cover the conversation with the clatter of the plates.

“ _No_ ,” came Reggie’s sheepish reply, he also poorly trying to conceal the conversation from Ray.

Who was less than two feet away and could hear every word. Kids these days, thinking their parents don’t have eyes and ears.

An aggravated groan came from Julie, the sound of palm meeting forehead palpable. Not the first time she’d reacted in such away to poor Reginald, nor would it be the last.

“Ask me what?” Ray ventured.

The teens stilled. Eyes darting to each other and then turning to him as though silently making a decision on the spot.

Simultaneous, Ray was greeted with bright and encouraging smiles—also desperate. Incredibly _desperate_ smiles.

“Um—Reggie needs to ask you something—”

“Pretty sure, _you_ ,” the boys stressed, elbowing Julie lightly, “Jules, want to ask _your_ dad a question? Since he is _your_ dad.”

“But it has to do with you,” she said between gritted teeth, “Reggie. Why don’t you ask?”

Under Julie’s stern ‘Mom’ gaze (Ray once heard the boys tease his _hija_ over her scolding and withering stares, comparing her to their own mothers. That did not bode well in the slightest) Reggie stuttered and stumbled. He was the weakest of boys to her powerful presence.

“I—uh,” Reggie cleared his throat and shook out his shoulders. “I uh—”

“Reggie needs to crash here for the weekend.” Julie came to his saving grace, clearly not wanting to put the boy through any more suffering. “His parents went out of town unexpectedly and he has nowhere else to go.”

“I would ask the guys, but Luke’s still on thin ice with his mom and Alex—” He dropped his voice lower. “For some reason his parents think I’m a ‘problem’,” his brows furrowed, befuddled by that odd development, “and that’s a big no-no for them.”

“So I thought why not just let him stay here!” Julie shrugged, giving her best (begging) bright grin. “I mean, it’s just for the weekend.”

“Yup!” Reggie chimed in, matching Julie’s enthusiasm to boot.

Ray rubbed his jaw, turning over the idea in his head.

He liked Reggie. He did. Kind, considerate, and respected Ray with the highest regard. With Reggie, he had nothing to worry about. Reggie was Reggie. The boy was absolutely harmless; he’d be more concerned about Carlos going to bed on time with those two gaming al night.

If it was Luke they were discussing…then this would be an entirely different conversation. One that involved calling Victoria and unleashing her on Julie, who’d no doubt be subjected to enforced prayer and several anointments to ensure purity.

He’d also stick Luke in the studio and set the alarm and camera to catch the boy if he even thought of sneaking up the stairs.

But this was Reggie, and there was a guest bedroom upstairs.

A weekend wouldn’t hurt.

“Mija—”

In spurt of desperation, Reggie dropped to his knees and clung to Ray’s legs like a toddler. “Please, please, please, please, please!”

Julie’s nose wrinkled in a cringe. Leaping down, she extracted Reggie from Ray’s legs, a harder endeavor than anyone expected.

“Please, Ray! I’ll help you cook—”

“You already do that,” Ray reminded him.

“Then I’ll help in other ways!” Reggie insisted, wiggling out of Julie’s stubborn arms. A huff left her, reading glasses skewed up. Reggie had nearly knocked the black frames over with a blind waved arm, hoping to push her away without causing any harm. Soon enough they were both on the floor, his daughter trying her hardest to get the boy off of his legs while Reggie smushed his face against Ray’s shin. “Please, please, please just let me stay.”

“Fine!” Ray felt a tension headache blooming just watching the two. “You can stay. I was going to say ‘yes’ before this little,” he waved to their disgruntled mess of themselves on the floor, “display.”

“Yay!” Reggie cheered, a bit out of breath.

“Really?” Julie perked up. She stood up, dusting herself off. “You’re going to let Reggie stay?”

“Of course. For the weekend,” Ray assured the two.

The smell of burnt, chard meat began to fill the air.

“The tacos!” Reggie cried. The boy leapt from the ground and dashed over to the stove, on a personal mission to singlehandedly save their delicious dinner. Neither father or daughter believed he’d succeed, but stranger things had happened.

“Really, _Papi_ ,” Ray’s heart softened at the name—his _hija_ rarely called him such, not on the regular since middle school; she was serious, “thank you.”

“Your friends are always welcomed to stay,” Ray pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, giving her shoulder a quick squeeze, “Ay, the boys are around so much, they should just live here.”

He chuckled at his own amused thought—the boys in the house twenty-four-seven would drive him up the wall. Music nonstop. The stench of teen boy—musky, sweat, and too heavy cologne to compensate—would never leave the pores of his walls. The fridge would always be empty. Not that it had not reached that point already. Grocery shopping was a three, sometimes four week trip. Victoria had even fallen back into the habit of dropping off more food than they could eat, less for her family and more so for _Julie y los Fantasmas_. Maybe she was dotting on the boys more than she should, but she like him knew what they meant to Julie.

He remembered what it was like to be seventeen; all hormones, staying up late, and wanting to explore the world. The boys were just the same, if not worse in some ways.

But he knew his kids would love it. Carlos would always have a buddy to game with, and Julie would be with her band…of course then he’d have to think about how to house three boys. Not that the house couldn’t hold them, but there was one particular boy who…

It was all hypothetical. Reggie was just staying for the weekend.

Yet still a fun, amusing thought.


	2. Mission Impossible

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all--WOW. I DID NOT EXPECT THIS TYPE OF RESPONSE TO THE FIC. 
> 
> Honestly thought I'd post and get a kudo or two, not this overwhelming love. I am shook to my core. So thank you to all of you who have welcomed this fic with open arms. You guys are honestly the sweetest readers ever and I appreciated every kudo, comment, and hit ❤
> 
> Here is the next chapter!
> 
> Typos will be fixed later; as always, I am one woman show, no beta, so all mistakes are mine from my frazzled brain, lol.
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

The weekend flew by faster than anyone expected.

Music (Luke was insistent on finishing their new song and making _perfect_ ). Hanging out (at some point music stopped being made and a deep discussion on significance of middle names popped up—no one knew how, however everyone blamed it on Reggie). Junk food (pizza, pizza, and more pizza—Julie was sure she’d burst if she ate another slice). Movie night ( _Clueless_ —Alex’s pick). And homework squeezed into there somewhere…

At least that’s what Julie assured her dad as they did their round-up and drop off on Sunday afternoon.

“I am just making sure,” her dad stressed, eyes darting to his rearview mirror. In the backseat the boys sat squished together, elbows and knees digging into each other. The SUV had plenty of room, but Carlos commandeered the entire backrow as his own, leaving the boys to fight a battle ( really, it was three rounds of rock-paper-scissors) on who would sit in the middle.

Alex lost.

He frowned back at Julie, who’d spared a quick check-in glace with the guys.

“You tell your parents’ you four are studying. I need to make sure at least _some_ studying happened.” A slight drawl of annoyance laced his words. Luke, Julie, Alex, and Reggie studying together was a stretch. Julie was a junior while to boys were seniors, their course loads similar but different. Then once Flynn was thrown into the mix, coming and going off and on through out the day, any homework getting done was not really plausible.

“I can assure you Mr. Molina I am fully prepared for my calculous exam tomorrow,” Alex chimed in, hugging his backpack to his chest.

“ _Kiss-butt_ ,” Luke coughed into his shoulder.

“What did you say?” Alex snapped back.

Shrugging innocently, Luke did not spare a glance at his friend, feigning interest in the passing scenery outside the car window. “Nothing…” Then— “ _Kiss-butt_.”

“Shut up!” Alex shoved his shoulder into Luke. “Not my fault I actually know how to study for a test!”

Jaw dropping and nostrils flaring, Luke rammed his shoulder back into him. Without missing a beat, Alex nudged him back before an all-out flailing broke out between the two. Hands smacking into air, smacking into each other’s faces, and elbowing at any limb in reach.

Honestly, they looked ridiculous. Like toddlers.

And Julie knew breaking them up would only lead to pouty faces and indecipherable mumbles. _Like toddlers_.

But it wasn’t Luke and Alex’s bickering that caught Julie’s attention from the passenger seat—it was Reggie.

Squeezing in on himself, slouching against his side as he shifted away from his two best friends. He didn’t look scared or fearful, just exhausted. As though the raising voices—while childish and ludicrous—were reminding him of another pair’s…reminding Reggie of his parents.

Julie’s heart ached for him.

The weekend was a fib. His parents weren’t out of town. Well…technically one was, but that was because his mom packed up her bags and left earlier in the week. She was done with trying and going back to her family in Oregon seemed like the best option.

And Reggie’s dad gave him an ultimatum—he could go with his mother or find a place for himself. Reggie was almost a legal adult, the oldest out of the boys despite his demeanor, his birthday a month and a half away. The option of staying with his father was off the table—Reginald Sr. was a military man and he tried his best to stay in one location for long, but he went where the job called and the job called him away from California.

Leaving California wasn’t an option for Reggie, he had the band to think about, he explained as much when he told the band and Flynn what had happened. He couldn’t just up and leave when the band was so close to their big break.

So they came up with a plan. And it’d work if Luke and Alex weren’t being idiots all the time—

“Not everyone likes a kissas—”

“Guys,” Julie called out, sending the two a sharp, chilling glare, “cut it out!”

Frozen mid-shove, Alex immediately dropped his arms, curling back in on himself, while Luke sulked in the corner. “Yes, boss,” they mumbled, words half over lapping each other.

A sigh escaped her, Julie sitting face forward once more.

“You got the Mom voice and stare down, _mija_ ,” her father teased as he pulled up to the Bennet’s house. “It is a gift, your mom had it too.”

Julie huffed, unable to argue or complain when her mother was brought up. Her mom did have the telltale stern and demanding voice only associated with mothers prior to even having children, family home-video proving so.

She briefly wondered what her mother would do about the Reggie situation—probably insist the boy stay with them until the end of time before a question is even utter. Rose Molina’s heart could not be tamed, too wide and broad to stop from loving even the cruelest stranger.

Ok, maybe that was stretch—her mother did have a mild temper when provoked, but still a loving and kind person. She would have loved Reggie like her own son.

Her dad set the car in park by the curb, the lights from inside the 1970s era bungalow flooding on to the immaculate yard. The Bennet household was one that held standard while also always being up for a good bash, their house often used for parties for Pastor Bennet’s congregation and the occasional band gathering if Julie’s dad needed a break. They often invited all of their son’s friends over to Wednesday night Youth Group and pizza afterwards, often with a bag of quarters to let the kids at it in the arcade while they waited for their pizza.

Julie, could say without hesitation, she loved the Bennet family. Kind, sweet, always asking about her life outside of the guys, as though they knew she wasn’t completely like the dufuses who would lay their life down for their band.

They also often—very often, to the point Julie was beginning to find it a little weird—told her how much they appreciated her being in Alex’s life and being his friend, and being a good-good-good influence.

Yeah, the Bennets were nice, but weird. But at least they weren’t like Reggie’s who forced smiles when they saw her or Luke’s, who could not decided if they liked her or not, so the Patterson’s kept her at arm’s length.

“Alright _Alejandro_ ,” her dad announced, Alex perking at the name. “You are first up. See you tomorrow.”

“Thank you for the ride, Mr. Molina. I really appreciate it.” Alex nodded gratefully, genuine in every way. He un-buckled himself and turned right to stop short. He came face to face with Luke. “This is why I wanted to sit on the right window seat!” Luke winced, opening the door and sliding out of the car. Huffing, Alex climbed out and straightened himself, said ‘ _thank you,_ ’ and marched up to his front door.

Luke climbed back into the car, mumbling and grumbling as he buckled back up.

Once Alex was inside and waved at the car, Julie’s father drove off towards their next destination—Reggie’s place. Then their plan would commence.

The little beach house was dark, lights out and no cars parked in the driveway.

Her father hesitated. “ _Mijo_ , are you sure your parents are back home?”

“Yup!” Reggie chirped, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “They are less than an hour out, texted me and everything.” He waved his phone out for emphasis.

Her father squinted at the dark screen, but it flew out of his vision and back into Reggie’s pocket.

“If you want we can wait,” he offered, “I’m sure we all don’t mind.” His eyes darted to Julie and Luke, who were growing more panicked by the second.

Her dad was supposed to just drop him off and go. Not be the martyr for Reggie! Leave it to him to be overly concerned over the boy.

“It’s okay!” Reggie opened the backseat door, shuffling out into the cool October night. “I’ll be okay—totally a-o-k.” He gave his biggest smile and closed the door.

Her father rolled down his window, staring out to Reggie with furrowed eyebrows. “Well…then text Julie when your parents come,” her father relented. “Just so I know you are safe.”

“Got it, Ray,” Reggie nodded in agreement, shooting finger guns. “Thanks for the ride and see ya guys tomorrow.” He dashed across the browning lawn before any more words could be exchanged and opened the front door, slipping into the dark.

Her father frowned at the door.

The house was still dark.

Then the porch light flickered on.

Relief washed over him, the car put back into drive. “Make sure you let me know ig he texts. I’ll come back and pick him up.” He began to ease his way down the quiet street, the salty ocean air breezing through the open window.

Julie nodded, fiddling with her phone. She looked over her shoulder, catching Luke’s eye.

They only need to make it past the corner. Just the corner.

Her father made a left and—

“Mr. Molina—Ray—I—I don’t feel so good,” Luke announced in a hurry, hunching in on himself.

The brakes slammed at the crossroads. “What?” Her father whipped around, finding Luke whimpering and clutching his stomach in great pain. “What’s wrong—did it just hit you?”

Luke nodded, scrunching up his face in distress.

With a loud groan, he fell flat face against the seat bench. “I need to throw up!”

“ _Ay carajo_ ,” her father muttered, Julie’s eyebrows darting up at the phrase. “Not in the car!” Her dad got out of the driver’s seat and opened the back in lightning speed, and grabbed Luke by the biceps. “Come on, _mijo_ , let’s go.” He helped the boy to his feet and led him to side of the road, where the foliage of the hills met with the residential area. “Let it out you’ll feel better…”

Julie jumped up from her seat and climbed over the middle console, and out the open driver side door. Light on her feet, she hurried to the back of the SUV and popped open the hatchback as quietly as she could. Carlos’s head popped out, along with hands out ready to help.

Pursing her lips, Julie gave a little whistle.

Off from the other side of the road, Reggie’s head popped out between the bushes.

“ _Come on_!” Julie mouthed, waving him over.

Looking left then right, Reggie ran across the street, his duffle bags jiggling and bouncing on his back. He skidded to a stop beside Julie, handing off one bag to her, one to Carlos and began climbing into the trunk of the car. Once all his belongings and limbs were tucked safely into the back of the SUV, Julie closed the hatchback and raced to the front of the car. Clumsily she crawled back to her spot, and pushed her hair back. Once she was settled, heart hammering against her chest, Julie rolled down the window and whistled again.

Off from where she could spot the two, Luke stood back up straight, much to her father’s bewilderment. Luke shrugged and began walking back to car, her father rushing after the boy.

“—are you sure? We need to take you to the hospital to get that checked out,” her father insisted, their conversation within earshot.

Luke shrugged again, climbing back into the car and buckling up. “It was probably just motion sickness—”

“We were going ten miles per hour,” her father deadpanned, an eyebrow raised.

Luke opened his mouth, a half grin forming and breathy chuckle escaped him. “The human body is a strange thing, Ray—” Her father was unamused, “—I mean, Mr. Molina, sir,” Luke croaked out.

Apparently deciding not to push it, her father shook his head and sat back down in the driver’s seat. He buckled up and began making his way to the Patterson house, though not without sending a dead glare to the boy in the backseat every so often.

When he pulled up to the house, Luke hopped out with a quick thanks and ran up the path to his front door. Ray huffed and followed after, “Someone has to tell his mother about the little stunt he pulled…”

The moment he left, Reggie’s head popped up. “Oh my god—Luke’s mom is going to kill him!”

“Shh!” Julie hissed, keeping herself face forward. Her dad stood at the front porch, speaking with Luke’s mom, Emily, who did not seem too pleased. “Someone had to take one for the team and it couldn’t have been me.”

“Or me,” Carlos announced.

“Or me,” Reggie added sadly, before frowning. “Wait, I couldn’t take one for the team because this is for me—”

“Shh!” Julie roared, her dad coming back to car. Once he was back in and buckled, she smiled brightly at him. “You didn’t get Luke into too much trouble, right?” she ventured.

“His mother is taking him to the doctor tomorrow to see what these random stomach cramps are,” her dad told her, eyes on the road and jaw tight. “He wasn’t too happy about it, but no one wants him ill. Least of all me.”

Julie’s worry softened; at the end of the day, her dad cared for Luke, even if the boy did occasionally rub him the wrong way.

The drive back home was mostly in silence, the radio playing on a soft rock station to fill the void. Once they pulled up into their driveway, her father cursed under his breath. “That’s weird; the tire pressure is low in back. I thought I fixed that yesterday.” He set the car in park. “You two go on inside, I need to fill the tires up.”

Carlos’ head shot up at attention.

Julie tensed. “It’s okay, Dad. We’ll wait for you—”

Her dad shook his head in confusion. “ _Mija_ , it’s just tires. I have the air compressor on the garage. It will take five, maybe ten minutes max.” He left the car, Julie and Carlos hurrying after him, tripping over themselves as they made their exit.

Her father turned around the corner, into the garage for the compressor and—

Julie flung open the back of the car. “You need to get out, now!”

Reggie blinked blurrily at her, apparently falling asleep. “Wha—”

“Get out!” She ordered between gritted teeth.

Carlos grabbed one of the duffle bags while Julie pulled on Reggie to get up.

“But I thought we were going to wait until—”

Her father came back around the corner, wheeling the air compressor—

“Forget it." She shoved Reggie back into the car, his head clonking against the carpeted trunk. “Get back in, get back in, get back in!” She closed the back of the SUV as quietly as possible.

Her father stopped short at the sight of her and Carlos. “I thought I told you two—wait, Carlos why do you have that?” He motioned to the duffle.

“I, uh,” the younger boy’s eyes darted to Julie—he’d have to come up with something on his own. “It’s my baseball gear!”

“That’s not your duffle—”

“I switched it!” The boy declared before running out of the garage and up the stairs to the house.

Their father blinked, stunned by Carlos’ quick departure, but proceeded with his task.

Upon seeing Julie still lingering, he gave her small smile. “Do you need anything? Or do you just want to learn how to fill up tires?”

“Best to learn now,” Julie uttered between an airy chuckle. “Got that permit and all…” She shoved her hands into her pockets, rocking back and forth on her heels.

Her father crouched down to the back right wheel, waving the air nozzle. “Well this goes—” His words stopped short as he stared down at the tire. “Did we leave anything in the back seat?”

“What?” Julie wheezed. “No. What would we leave—”

Already standing, her dad made heed to open the back. “Maybe the boys left one of their instruments—”

She jumped to stop him, but it was already too late.

The back of the SUV was wide open.

And Reggie laid curled up in the back, a duffle sandwiched between his arms and legs, attempting to make himself as small as possible.

“Hey Ray!” he cheered. Except it was quieter than usual, and filled with an anxiousness Julie had never once associated with the hyper, puppy dog like Reggie.

Shock, confusion, then anger flashed across her father’s face. “Why are you in the back of my car and not in your own home?”

A nervous chuckle bubbled out of Julie, she leaping between her father and Reggie.

“You see it’s kind of a funny story…”

“I’m not asking you,” her father looked past her to Reggie, “I’m asking _him_.”

Head bowed down, Julie scooted out of the way, but within arm’s reach. She needed to protect Reggie. He had no one but himself in defense, and she couldn’t leave him to flounder alone.

“I—” Reggie sat back up, his happy disposition melting into a pale hurt, “I have nowhere else to go. My…my parents left me.”

A small gasp of disbelief left her dad, he unable to look away from the poor, lonely boy. “ _Mijo_ , what do you mean your parents left you?”

“They got into a big fight and split,” he answered, vaguely, “and…and they told me I was old enough to be on my own. So…” Reggie’s shoulders rose and then fell in heartbreaking ease—familiar disappointment. “So here I am.”

“Get your bags and go to the guest room.”

Julie and Reggie’s heads snapped up.

“Really?” the boy asked, soft and stunned by the news.

“Yes,” her dad told him, gentle and to the point. “Go. Now. We will discuss more of this tomorrow. But you have school tomorrow and you need all the rest you can get.”

A small, broken smile emerged from the boy. “Thanks, Ray.” He seemed to want to wrap the man in grateful hug, but held back. For once, Reggie could read the room.

Without being told twice, he hurried out of the garage and up the path to the house.

Julie and her father were left alone.

“Dad—”

“When something like this happens, you tell me,” he told her, voice quaking low. “You _always_ tell me. I get you want to help your friend, but this is not something you can fix, _mija_.”

“I know but—”

Her dad waved his hand in the air, silencing her. “If you told me from the beginning this happened, then we could have found a solution sooner. Not put that poor boy through more chaos.”

“I know,” Julie interjected, hoping her father would let her speak. His silence gave her the nudge to continue. “We were just nervous you’d say ‘no’—”

“But that would be my decision, and you do not know my decision,” he told her pointedly. He shuffled over to her, resting his hands on her shoulders. “He will be staying with us in the meantime. I’ll call his parents tomorrow, see what we can do about the situation. But be assured _mija_ , Reggie has a home with us. He’ll be fine.”

Julie nodded silently, a prickle of tears behind her eyes. Hand fisted her rubbed her eyes, hoping to push the pressure would fade away. “I just…I just didn’t want to lose someone else. I love Reggie; he’s one of the best friends I’ve ever had and—” Her breath shudder, her lungs hurting as a suppressed sob attempted to warble its way out of her.

“Ay, Julie…” Her dad brought her into a warm hug, holding her close. “You have nothing to worry about, okay?” A firm kiss was pressed on the top her head. “He’s here and he’s safe. The adults will handle everything else, _comprende_?” He patted her shoulder and pulled away. “Why don’t you go help him unpack? I’m sure he is already making a mess in the room…”

Julie giggled, wiping away her tears with the sleeves of her sweater. “ _Te quiero_ , Papi.”

Hurrying along, she did not see the weariness in her father’s eyes.

“ _Te quiero_ , mija,” he mumbled to the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPANISH PHRASE AND WORD BREAKDOWN
> 
> "mija"/"mijo"---> "daughter"/"son" (aka the highest compliment any older Spanish speaking person can give you, also someone who is just a couple of years older might call you mija/mijo if you are younger than them; that's just how it works, I don't make the rules 🤣
> 
> "Ay carajo"---> "oh, fuck." Hence Julie's shock, lol.
> 
> "Alejandro"---> Spanish name for "Alexander"
> 
> "Te quiero"---> "I love you"
> 
>   
> Also, we will be jumping to a couple of pov's in this fic, but mostly Julie and Ray :)
> 
> Hope you guys liked it! Let me know what you think; love discussing the fic with readers!


	3. Mi Casa Es Su Casa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> I am just on a roll with this fic right now, so I am just embracing it. But be forewarned, not all updates will be this fast in the future (anyone who reads any of my other fics knows that 🤣) but I'll try my best.
> 
> This is for everyone who wanted to see Luke at the doctor's office, lol.
> 
> Also I am slowly replying to comments! If I haven't replied yet, I will within the next couple of days!
> 
> Typos will be fixed later; enjoy!

* * *

Luke hated two things.

Homework—seriously, why did teachers give so much? Did they not realize some of their students were in soon-to-be legendary bands?

And the doctor’s office.

“Do you feel pain here?” Dr. Jefferey’s cool, ghostly hands pressed into his abdomen.

“No,” Luke droned, wanting to shrivel up and die.

The doctor moved the pressure closer to his kidney, Luke biting the inside of his cheek as the professional continued to prob.

“How about here?”

“No.”

“Turn on your side.”

Luke followed the orders, laying on his side and glaring at the autumn inspired mural on the wall across from him. Painted leaves suspended in air mocked him as once again he was poked and pressed.

“Well, I can say it is not appendicitis or a kidney stone,” Dr. Jefferey announced.

A relieved sigh came from Luke’s mother, she sitting in the corner of the room. Luke insisted he could go in alone, but his mom wouldn’t take no for an answer, needing to know what was wrong with him the moment the doctor came to his conclusion.

Smothered did not even begin to describe how Luke felt with her in the room.

“Sit up,” Dr. Jefferey ordered. Refraining an eyeroll, Luke pulled himself up, slouching in on himself. “I have a few questions and then I think you’ll be good to go.” The near-elderly man squinted down at his clipboard. “You haven’t ingested any new or odd food?”

“No.”

“Have you taken any recreational drugs?”

Sharp brown eyes landed on him from across the room, daring him to say ‘yes’.

“No,” Luke droned. He was missing his morning classes for this. Just Physiology-Anatomy and Statistics, but he had the first class with Julie…and Luke wasn’t one to pass up an opportunity to spend time with her even if it was while dissecting a fetal pig.

“Has there been anything stressful going on in your life?”

Luke’s brows furrowed. “I don’t get stressed.” A slight lie, but not entirely false. Not much stressed him out or caused anxiety. The only thing that had caused him stress of any kind was—

“He’s in a band,” his mother chimed in. “He spends every waking moment thinking and working on his band.” Her disdain was obvious, Luke feeling the burn of defense in his gut with every word.

“We’re Julie and the Phantoms, formerly Sunset Curve,” Luke explained proudly, before adding, “Tell your friends.”

“Does the band cause you any unnecessary stress?” Dr. Jefferey asked.

“Yes.”

“No!” Luke’s gaze traveled over his doctor’s shoulders to his mother. “It doesn’t cause me stress, Mom!”

“Luke, you spend all day worrying about the band—about your next gig, about your rehearsals, about your next song." She blinked in bewilderment. “You barely get your homework done and last I recall, you were nearing academic probation.”

“I’m not going to need school when I'm a rockstar!” Luke reasoned.

His mother ignored the comment, an all too familiar excuse Luke used in their never-ceasing arguments. “You are spreading yourself too thin, that is sure to cause stress in anyone.”

“I am asking about stress because you could have irritable bowel syndrome or a stress induced ulcer,” Dr. Jefferey clarified before a Patterson family feud could break out. “But it could be nothing at all. Bodies are a strange thing. Sometimes they do things we don’t understand.”

“Isn’t it your _job_ to know what bodies do?” Luke asked, he and his mother sharing a small look of annoyance.

“From a perspective, yes. Doctors give an educated guess based on information provided, and…” He double checked his notes. “And my best guess is trapped gas. I recommend drinking some ginger ale and taking a anti-acid when you feel that pain coming on.” He scribbled on a piece of paper and handed it off to Luke. “Give this to the receptionist and she’ll give you a travel size bottle of _Tums_.”

Luke accepted the slip of paper. “See? I told you I’m fine!” He hopped off the exam table and shrugged back on his jacket. “Now I gotta get back to school—the band and I were going to go over our set list over lunch.”

His mother’s jaw tightened, hands clasping on the straps of her purse in a knuckle grip. “Fine, alright. Let’s go—but we’re going to talk about this band business when you get home tonight.”

Luke nodded once. “Got it.”

Now, they couldn’t really talk about the band if he didn’t come home that night, right?

* * *

“What’s up Buttercup?”

Head buried deep in his locker, Luke paused his search for his Music History notes. With a quick peek behind the door, he found Flynn leaning against the lockers, waving her fingers in ‘hello.’

He grunted and turned back to his futile task.

“Hello to you too,” she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest, “what woke you up on the wrong side of the bed?”

“I had to go to the doctor this morning,” he mumbled. In the far back if his locker, he saw the flash of his wire coiled notebook. With one hand braced against the locker beside him, Luke reached further, pushing away all the other junk—half written lyrics on napkins, a sweatshirt or two, an empty to-go cup, and more unmentionables that would adequately call him a slob.

“And that gives you the excuse to be a grump?” she shot back, raising an eyebrow.

“My mom went with me.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah,” he uttered, his hand finally grabbing what he believed to be his Music History notes. “And it sucked.”

“Well as much as I’d love to hear you lament, I have been looking for you everywhere.”

He pulled out the notebook—it was the school planner his mom bought him…from two years ago. One he had not touched since the first day of school sophomore year. Yeah, he _really_ needed to clean out his locker.

“Why did you need to find me?” he finally asked, chucking the planner back into its apparent forever home. “If you needed to talk band stuff, you could have just texted in the group chat or asked Julie. Don’t you two have Lit together?”

“Because…” She pushed the locker door to face him fully. “I haven’t been able to find Julie and Reggie all day.”

Luke froze.

“ _What_?”

Flynn nodded slowly. “I thought since they didn’t send anything in the group chat everything went off without a hitch.”

“Me too!” Dread pull down on Luke. “Clearly we were wrong.”

“I’ve been texting her, but she has just been leaving me on _read_ ,” she gritted out the term, hand clenching around her cell phone.

“Oof.” Luke winced, ducking his head back into his locker.

“Who leaves their best friend on _read_ when it is a matter of life and death!” Her hands flew up in the air, shock and sad frustration twisting on her face. “For all we know Reggie could still be in the bushes—”

“He’s not,” Luke interjected before Flynn could get ahead of herself. “I was there. He got in the car. They were heading back home when I was dropped off.”

“Which mean only one thing…” Flynn became downcast, Luke sharing her sentiments.

“Ray caught them.”

Silence passed between the two, both looking down in defeat. So many scenarios ran through Luke’s head—how did Ray even find Reggie? Did they even make it home before Ray realized he had an extra body in the car? He had a sixth sense about that, always able to figure out who was in his house and where. Did Ray call Reggie’s parents and was his best friend already halfway to Oregon?

God, the Oregon music scene was awesome, but not awesome enough to make Reggie’s departure a soft blow. Plus, it would be just him. He, Alex, and Julie would still be in L.A. trying to get the next best gig without the best bassist alive beside them.

“Guess who totally nailed their calculous test!”

“Read the room, Alex!” Flynn shot out to the happy dancing teen.

He stopped mid-sprinkler, his excitement morphing into concern. “Oh. What happened?”

“No one has heard from Reggie or Julie since last night,” Luke told him, giving a small shrug. “I’m assuming you haven’t either.”

Rocking back and forth on his feet, Alex shoved his hands into his pockets—as though attempting to appear innocent. Luke turned to him, waiting. “Well…uh—Mr. Molina did call my mom early this morning, and—and maybe I heard Reggie’s name in there somewhere—”

“ _What_?” Luke punched his shoulder, Alex shifting away. He wrapped his arm around Alex before he could run off and reeled him over to his and Flynn’s little huddle. “What do you mean your mom talked to Ray this morning?”

Standing between Luke and Flynn, Alex’s head bounced back between the two, enclosed. “I…I mean what I said! He and my mom were talking this morning. She said ‘Poor Reggie. He is in my prayers.’ And that’s all I heard before Charlie came running down the hall declaring she was a fairy princess and I needed to be her noble stead.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Luke all but wanted to shake his friend, so opted for just shaking his right arm instead of his entire body. The kinder option in all honesty.

“About being a noble stead?” Alex feigned. His shoulders dropped in a dramatic shrug. “I did not know you were so interested in my sister’s pretend games. Next time I’ll let her know you want to be the noble stead.”

“No! About the phone call.” Flynn huffed, she shaking down Alex’s other arm. “Why didn’t you say anything about the phone call?”

“Because what did you guys expect?” Alex’s eyes darted between the two desperate stares. “I said to _not_ try to sneak Reggie back into the house! But you did it anyway, and Ray probably found him, which doesn’t surprise me!”

During their brainstorm for operation ‘Sneak Reggie Into the House’—okay not the best name, but they were under pressure, the time crunch was real—Alex had been adamantly against the mission. He did not see the point of making an elaborate plan to ‘save Reggie’ when they could just _ask_ Mr. Molina. Explain the situation and just ask.

Needless to say Luke balked at the suggestion. Ray liked them enough, but he doubted he’d open his home for one of them to stay for an undetermined amount of time. The man watched him like a hawk, so he wasn’t too sure where Alex was getting this willingness to trust the elder Molina.

Luke let Alex’s arm go with a small push. “He’s probably going to send Reggie to his mom. Or worse, his dad.”

“I don’t think Mr. Molina would do that.” Flynn gently released Alex, patting his shoulder. “He’s a kind and cool dude. And he likes Reggie. He hasn’t seem to have done anything drastic at this point. We would have found out by now.” She bit her lips together, really mulling over the situation. “Maybe your own experience with him is tainting your opinion—”

“My own experience?” Luke uttered. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We mean the fact Mr. Molina wants you at least six feet away from his daughter at all times,” Alex declared. “I don’t think he has forgotten that night this past summer?”

A flare of hot embarrassment soared through Luke. “We fell asleep watching a movie! Nothing happened!”

A bemused grin was shared between Alex and Flynn. “‘ _Nothing happened_!’” They taunted back in harmony, voices raised high as laughter pitched their words.

“Shut up!” Luke shot back, sounding more like a whine. He slammed his locker shut, Music History notes be damned. “I have study hall—don’t follow me!” Marching past the two, he flipped them off. Their chuckles returned in tenfold. “Nothing happened!” he shouted back one more time as he rounded the corner.

Only to bump into the once person he wanted to see most.

“REGGIE!”

His leapt into the boy’s arms, relief washing over him like a tidal wave. The two stumbled on their feet until their off balance landed them in a heap on the linoleum floor.

“Dude, dude, dude, dude,” Luke rolled off him, and pulled his friend up to sit, “what happened? Where have to been?” He exclaimed.

Several students passed by, glaring at their road blockage in the hallway. But neither cared, Reggie hugging Luke again, giddiness radiating off of him.

“I have been here actually,” Reggie explained, if not a bit sheepish, “Ray has been helping figure out a few things. Julie too.” His head ducked down, a small smile forming. “Lots of paperwork needed to be done, and still needs to be done, but it looks like I’ll be able to stay with them.”

“That’s good, dude—no,” Luke shook his head, beaming right back at him, “that’s great!”

“Yeah,” Reggie nodded, “yeah it really is.”

“So our plan did work in way, yeah?”

“No,” Reggie shook his head, his dopey smile still intact. “Not in the slightest.”

“Damn.”

“Boys, what are you doing sitting on the floor in the middle of the hallway?” Principal Lessa stared down at them, she standing right outside her office. “Don’t you two have classes to get to?”

“Yes, Principal Lessa, ma’am,” Luke hopped up, offering a hand to Reggie. His friend took his hand and he eased him back on his feet. He nodded to her in goodbye and fist-bumped Reggie.

As he left he could hear Principal Lessa say, “Reggie, I’m glad you have some friends who really care for you. Even if it is Luke Patterson.”

* * *

It wasn’t until Music History, his last class of the day, did Luke finally see Julie.

While they all had plans for lunch to met and go over the set list for their next gig—at a yet to be determined venue (what? They liked to plan big!)—Julie had to spend her lunch break in Calculous to take the test she missed that morning while her family figured out the situation with their newest tenant, AKA Reggie.

But now, after spending the entire day wondering when he’d get the chance to see her again, Luke was sitting next to Julie in Music History.

Tearing off a piece of paper from the corner of his Stats notebook (he never did find his Music History notes), he wrote—

_Hi._

—and pushed the paper to Julie.

Frowning down at the paper, she opened it.

Then rolled her eyes.

A quick scribble in purple pen and the paper was shove back to him.

**_Just ‘hi’? What do you want?_ **

He bit his lip, considering his answer. Mr. Solano continued to lecture, none the wiser to students on their phones and a few nodding off in the drag of the afternoon slump. He wouldn’t catch them passing notes in the middle row.

Luke ripped another piece of paper.

_Just check in. You’ve been MIA all day._

She took the paper the moment he finished.

**_I’ve been what? That looks like MOO._ **

****

He huffed, yanking the paper back.

_MIA. M-I-A._

She snorted.

Carrie Wilson, sitting in front of them, glared. “Some of us are trying to learn something. Cut the canoodling, weirdos.”

Neither Luke or Julie cared to bother with her complaints, resuming their conversation.

**_Ohhhh. Your handwriting, as always, sucks._ **

**_I’m fine. Just tired. We were all up late last night and up early this morning trying to figure out what needed to be done for Reggie to stay with us, ya know, legally._ **

****

**_It’s a lot more work than the movies make it out to be._ **

****

Luke read the note, then looked back at her. Julie didn’t just look tired, exhaustion ebbed from her. She was even wearing her reading glasses at school—a rare occurrence.

_I would hope it would be. It’s serious stuff._

_But if anyone can do it, the Molinas can._

She smiled at that. And his heart lifted at the sight.

_If you want, we can hang out, just you and me, afterschool?_

_To get your mind off it all._

She nodded, a written response not needed.

Luke felt like he was on cloud nine for the rest of class.

* * *

“I mean, who does that? Leave their kid to fend for themselves?” Julie ranted into her frozen yogurt, more focused on talking than stuffing her face with cookie-dough and brownie chunks. “I’m just so upset about it, and I can’t even bring it up to Reggie because then he’ll cry and my dad is stressed enough already—”

“Does he get ulcers?” Luke asked, recalling his doctor’s appointment that morning.

“What?” Julie’s eyebrows pinched together.

“Nevermind,” Luke mumbled into his mountain of gummy bear toppings.

Julie shook her head, gaze gravitating to the passing people around the outdoor mall. It was busy for a Monday, but not to the point they saw anyone from school or in their respective neighborhoods.

“I just don’t get it, and I want to get it to be there for Reggie who just constantly looks like a kick puppy when he thinks no one is looking.”

“He really does look like that,” Luke hummed in agreement. He stared down at his gummy bears on top of his chocolate fro-yo, his initial hunger fading away. Her words ran like a merry-go round in his head; she wanted to get it, understand Reggie and she couldn’t. She didn’t understand why she couldn’t get it, but Luke…Luke knew why. He just didn’t like being the one to break it to her. “You’ll never get it Julie, or be able to really understand how Reggie feels because your dad supports you.”

“Yeah,” Julie nodded once, not seeing the problem. “He does, because he’s my _dad_. He has to.”

“No, I don’t mean support you because he loves you and is legally obligated,” Luke rolled his eyes, feeling ridiculous clarifying what he meant, but the situation called for it, “but I mean he supports your dreams, your music, and wants you to succeed at it.” He shrugged, stabbing at his gummy bears until he skewed one right in the head. “Reggie’s parents cared, but not enough. His dad thought it was a cool hobby and his mom was just happy he was doing something that made him happy. They aren’t and weren’t like your dad.”

“I know that,” she said more towards her frozen yogurt than to him. “I know he’s more supportive than most, I just never realized how supportive he was in comparison until now.” Julie’s eyes lifted and remained glued on him, watching Luke with growing concern. “Is this about your mom?”

“What? No.” Luke shook his head. “Why would you even bring her up?”

“Because you have that look on your face.”

“What look?”

“The one that says ‘I got into another fight with my mom.’” Julie dropped her spoon into her near empty cup. Her hand traveled across the table and stopped less than inch away from his. An quiet offering. “You know you can always talk to me about it—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Luke rebuffed, body tensing. “It was just another stupid thing about the band. Nothing to worry about.”

“Are you sure?” Julie pressed, her hand still sitting close and waiting. “Because if it was anything like the last time—”

“It wasn’t, okay?” He stood up, putting more distance between himself and her questions.

He grabbed his melted mess of a cup and held out a hand for hers. Julie passed it over with a frown.

“I’m going to throw these away,” he lifted the cups up a little to prove his point, “and when I come back maybe we can start figuring out a set list. Didn’t Flynn mention she got us down for an open mic night next weekend?”

“Yeah, at Flannigan’s,” Julie answered.

Her hand was tucked back into her crossed arms, his opportunity long gone.

“Great! We need to start focusing on that.” He left the table for the trash can a few paced away.

The entire time he could feel Julie’s stare. She was concerned for him. But she didn’t need to be; she had enough on her plate, he was just another worry she didn’t need to have.

* * *

After his fro-yo with Julie, Luke avoided going home.

Instead he decided to help Reggie set up his room.

“Dude, you need to put you’re _The Who_ poster here!” Luke jumped up on the bed, pointing up to the ceiling. “So you can pray to the bass god, John Entwistle every night before you go to bed.” He jumped to the other side of the bed. “And then you can put your _Van Halen_ one beside it, and then _Joy Division_ , and _Nirvana—_ ”

“Luke,” Alex called from where he was organizing Reggie’s closet by color, “the ceilings are vaulted.”

“So?” Luke dropped down on the bed, landing on his side.

“He can’t hang his posters on the ceiling if the ceiling is vaulted,” Alex reasoned, sniffing a faded flannel. His nose wrinkled. “The spaces between the posts aren’t wide enough.”

“He can if he is determined,” Luke laid on his back, staring up the ceiling, “I can just picture it now.”

Sitting in the corner, by the built in bookshelf, Reggie carefully placed all his CD’s in their new home. “I don’t know—I would have to get a ladder.”

“You can just hop up on my shoulders,” Luke sat up, patting his shoulders for reference, “and hang them up.”

“And have both of you break your necks?” Alex shrilled, eyes wide in horror. “No-no-no. No posters on ceilings.”

“You can’t put posters on the ceiling. The ceiling is vaulted.”

The boys’ head whipped to door at the sound of the new voice.

Leaning against the door frame, Ray watched the three with amusement.

“That’s what I said!” Alex motioned to Ray. “He gets it!”

“What’s up, Ray?” Reggie greeted, peeking his head up to see the man.

“Just checking to see how you are settling in.” Ray eyes roved around the mess of clothes and knick-knacks laying across the floor. “And I see you are making yourself at home.”

“Yup!” The boy beamed. “The guys are really helping me out. Thanks for letting them hang.”

“Of course, _mijo_. _Mi casa es su casa._ ” He crouched down a picked up a book tossed to the edge of the room. _Catcher in the Rye_ , their next required reading in Literature. Ray set the book down on the desk, dusting it off in the process. “I also wanted to let you know your mother faxed back the papers, it all filled out. She’ll also be calling you tomorrow afternoon. So be ready for that.”

From his corner, Reggie nodded, the strain in his eyes returning.

“Boys,” Ray began, gently nudging the door closed, “I just want to lay a little ground rules now that this is happening.”

Alex, Reggie, and Luke glanced at each other. All remained frozen in place and too nervous to speak.

“You are always welcomed in my home,” Ray stated simply. “And now that Reggie is here, I expect all of you will be around more often. Julie’s friends are family. You are family.” The boys relaxed at that phrase. “But that also means family respects the rules of the house.” All relaxation vanished. “Which means no _musica_ after nine unless you have a gig that day or the following. All homework must be done before bedtime, which is ten on a school night. And under no circumstances can _any_ of you be in Julie’s room alone with the door closed or be in her room after lights out. I expect that door open if you are even asking her for help on homework. _Comprende_?”

His eyes were only on Luke as finished, not even sparing a half glance to Reggie or Alex.

“Comprende, Ray!” Reggie echoed with full smiles, just excited to be there.

“Comprende, uh, Mr. Molina, sir.” Alex stuttered out, fearing for his life even though the rules were obviously not for him.

Luke gulped. “Yeah,” he croaked. “Comprende.”

Ray clapped his hands together. “Great! Glad we have an understanding. Victoria is bring enchiladas in a half hour, be ready to eat then.” With that he gave the boys a nod and a wink, before leaving Reggie’s room.

“So…” Alex drawled. “Luke basically needs to keep it together, otherwise we are out?”

“Basically.” Reggie gave a half shrug, a smirk on his lips.

“Shut up!” Luke chucked a pillow at Alex and another at Reggie. “ _Nothing happened_! How many times do I need to say that?”

Boisterous laughter filled the room, more pillows chucked in retaliation.

The boys were planning on taking the phrase _mi casa es su casa_ to heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys haven't figured it out yet, Julie and Luke are not dating. Will they become something in this fic? Maybe...👀 Only time will tell. But we did get to see his perspective, which we might see again! For a fic that initially started out as a Ray POV fic, I might just rotate the POV with all out main characters. Let me know what y'all think about that.
> 
> SPANISH PHRASE BREAK DOWN!
> 
> There wasn't much this time but...
> 
> "mi casa es su casa"---> "my house is your home."
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are always appreciated! :D


	4. Rachel, the Barren Van

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, here we are again! I AM FOUR FOR FOUR with these updates, lol. Slowly replying to comments; I appreciate and adore every single one ❤
> 
> Typos will be fixed later.
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

Sputtering sounded down the street as the dusty, faded dark blue 1990 Chevy van drove at a snail pace. Afraid to put too much gas—Alex had only been in possession of a driver’s license for a mere six months—he kept the car at a steady 25 MPH for the sake of his own anxiety. 

The van pulled up to the curb of the Patterson house. Sitting on the curb, the two boys stared at the vehicle with utter horror and fascination.

In the slightly elevated driver’s seat, Alex smiled down at them. “What’s up, guys?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Luke stood up from the curb, nudging Reggie to stand with him. The boy stumbled to his feet, catching on to Luke’s shoulder in an attempt to steady himself. “When you said you had sweet wheels, this is not what I thought you meant!”

“Oh, I don’t know Luke,” Reggie hummed, chin set in hand as he perused the near vintage and well-worn car. “She’s a kind of a beauty.”

At least Reggie was optimistic. Alex could always count on Reggie to see the brighter side. Luke on the other hand…

“She’s disgusting.” The other boy argued, stepping closer to the open passenger window. He took a sniff, face crumpling. “Dude, it smells like baby barf and dog piss in there.”

Okay, maybe Luke did have a point there. The old van had been parked in the church storage garage in the back lot for the last few odd years. The church daycare van had been replace some time in 2014, a new shiny Subaru picking up daycare kids from school these days. Toddlers and kids had barfed and peed and pooped enough times in the car for the smell to be embedded in the seat cushions. And many they had to shoo out a couple of stray dogs in the past from making the old rust bucket their home.

But that didn’t mean the car was in bad condition!

“Well, hate to break it to you but she’s the only ride we have,” Alex shouted from the driver’s seat. The ignition shut off, the fumes finally ceasing their nasal intrusion. He waved the keys in his hands proudly. “Dad says the van is all ours!”

“Woo!” Reggie yelped, fist pumping in the air. “We finally have a band van!”

“Rachel just needs a little TLC.”

“She does definitely need a _scrub_ ,” Reggie nodded, a cheeky smile breaking through him. “Did you guys see what I did there? ‘No Scrubs’?”

“Yeah, Reggie,” Luke droned, while Alex chuckled. “We get it.” His head whipped to Alex, shaggy brown hair flopping as his eyes widened. “Wait, did you name the car _Rachel_? I thought we’d name the car together!”

“I didn’t name the car,” Alex told him, if not a bit sheepishly, “the church did. Years ago, apparently they had a poll. ‘Rachel’ was the most voted, beating the names ‘Sarah’ and ‘Rebekkah.’ I get it—it is arguably the nicest name out of the barren women in the bible.” He gave a half shrug. “Bible humor,” he shook his head fondly, “Am I right?”

“We can rename the car, right?” Reggie asked innocently enough. “She doesn’t have to be Rachel—”

“Of course!”

“No!”

Alex and Luke glared at each other. He should have known it was the stubborn singer-guitarist-song writer extraordinary who’d throw a hissy fit about the van. As his mother always said, ‘Beggars couldn’t be choosers. But we can always hope for better in the future’—or something like that. She liked to change common phrases to have a more hopeful perspective.

“Alex, do you not see the problem!” Luke gestured to the entire van. “The car’s name is ‘Rachel’ and it has ‘Jesus Loves You’ laminated across the side!” He huffed, pushing his hair out of his eyes, the haphazard waves sticking up at odd angles.

Alex suppressed a sigh. Dreamy or frustrated? Honestly he wasn’t too sure. Probably both.

“Like I said TLC—”

“Dude, did you not get the last part—we cannot drive in a van with ‘Jesus Loves You’ on it! People will think we’re a Christian band!”

“Hey, some Christian rock bands are pretty cool,” Reggie argued.

“Yeah, I know,” Luke relented; growing up Alex’s dad had consistently given Luke a set of CD’s for Christmas, one always being from a Christian rock band. “But that’s not us! And we don’t want people to assume that about us.”

Having enough, Alex hopped out of the car. Rounding to the back, he opened the door. “I know—that is why I ordered this a few days ago.”

He came to the side of the car, slim tube packing in hand. Shaking it, the rolled up large, vinyl sticker fell out. Alex unrolled the sticker for the boys to see.

“A ‘JULIE AND THE PHANTOMS’ logo, my friends!” For emphasis, he slapped the sticker over the peeling ‘Jesus Loves You,’ the logo perfectly covering the phrase. “I would like to remind everyone I am not a complete idiot—”

“That looks sick!” Luke’s annoyed, downtrodden demeanor did a one-eighty, he grinning in excitement.

Reggie was the same, nodded along as he stared thoughtful at the logo and where it would soon be located. “Yeah, it works it totally works! I can see it.”

“I can’t wait for Jules to see it,” Luke announced, already hiking his backpack over his shoulder. He opened the sliding backseat door. “We got to get there now before she thinks we ditched her.” Once he was in, he closed the door, already calling up Julie. “We have a surprise…”

Standing outside the car, Reggie caught Alex’s eye.

Pity shined back at him.

Damn, he didn’t it again didn’t he?

“Please don’t say it—”

“I’m not gonna,” Reggie assured him, but his reddening face and wince told him otherwise. “But…ya know he’s _really_ into Julie. And not…” He shrugged, looking like a hesitant turtle.

“I know, Reggie,” Alex hissed. “Do you think I like this?” He motioned to himself, feeling his anxiety pike in tenfold. “It’s only a little crush and it’s like…a _placeholder_ crush.”

“A _placeholder_ crush?” Reggie echoed, puzzled by the phrase.

“Like…” Alex mulled over the best way to explain how he felt. “I am not liking anyone right now, not since—”

“Danny,” Reggie supplied; everyone knew about his terrible ‘will-they-won’t-they’ with Danny. It was embarrassing. Mostly because Danny refused to actually date or admit he had somewhat of a relationship with Alex. He liked them hiding and suppressing their feelings for each other, like he got a thrill from it.

Alex hated it.

But he didn’t help it either; his parents were still in the dark about well… _everything_. Only his friend knew, and maybe Ray—actually scratch that, he was sure Ray didn’t know based off their previous interactions.

He kind of liked the idea of the closet (maybe that was a big lie, but Alex liked to tell himself he did, at least for his own self-esteem) so to say, at least when he was around his family; it was cozy…but now it was starting to feel cramped.

And he knew he couldn’t be with someone who preferred to keep him a secret, if he didn’t want them to be secret either.

“Right—Danny,” he rolled his eyes, his chest still aching at the name, “so…my brain latched on to the next person, who is definitely _unavailable_ and would _never_ happen, to cope. Like a standby crush.”

“Is it a placeholder crush or a standby crush?” Reggie asked, _really_ trying to understand.

Okay, maybe Alex’s overexplaining was getting out of hand here.

“Both. It means the same thing to me. But the point is, I just have a crush because I’ve never-not had a crush, and it was either between you or him.” He nudged his head to the van, where Luke’s muffled phone conversation with Julie was still taking place.

Shock flashed across Reggie’s face. “Why didn’t you pick me? I would have been a great unavailable crush!”

“I—I don’t know—”

“Oh I see how this friendship is—I’m a great bass player, good friend to listen to your woes, and not to mention, adorable to boot—but the moment you need an unavailable crush you pick Luke.”

“Reg—”

He moved away, holding his hands out to prevent Alex from getting closer. Reaching down, he picked up his backpack from the floor. “Hurt,” he motioned to himself, “all of this is _hurt_!”

“Dude, come on—”

The passenger door was slammed closed, Reggie claiming his spot in the front.

Alex sighed. “I am surrounded by idiots.” He nodded once to himself. “A…bunch…of… idiots.”

The backseat door slid open. “Alex, what are you waiting for?” Luke asked. “Jules and Flynn are waiting—I can only stall about a surprise for so long!”

“On it.” He ran around the back of the car, tucking away their logo.

Placeholder crushes faded away, and with someone like Luke, they’d fade away _fast_.

* * *

“It’s…”

“Gorgeous?”

“Old?”

“Reliable?”

“It’s…blue,” Julie uttered, clearly not the word she was looking for, but the one she said.

Alex released a chuckle of relief. At least she hadn’t reacted like Luke or Reggie—a nice happy medium.

“It needs some _major_ cleaning.” She stepped closer to the van, nose wrinkling. “But I think we can get it good and running by tomorrow night’s gig.”

“See?” Alex slung an arm around Julie’s shoulder. He could always rely on Julie to see both the positive and the negative; a true pragmatic realist. Maybe to her detriment sometimes, but they needed at least one who wasn’t _him_ to get through to the other guys. “She gets it!”

“It’s a really nice surprise.” She grinned up at him. “Plus, we don’t have to ask my Dad for rides anymore since we have our own band van. Which is good considering he has a night shoot tomorrow.”

“Is that what I think it is?” Flynn announced as she walked up the driveway from her house a block down. She lowered her sunglasses. “A band van?”

“You got it!” Reggie held his hand up for a hi-five. Flynn clapped back, though with far less enthusiasm. “Isn’t it so cool?”

“It’s, uh, _somethin’_ …” She was not a fan (no one was) but Flynn had a determined glint in her eyes. “You know what? I’m going to make a quick call—I think I know someone who has a deep carpet clearer to clean that…” She sniffed the air. “Smell. The smell that is now on all of you.” She waved to all the boys. “Excuse me.”

She walked away so fast, it was almost a sprint.

Julie chuckled. “Since Flynn is handling the deep cleaning situation, let’s get the outside lookin’ good.”

Wrangling up the guys, Julie led them into the garage. Sponges, soap, old towels, and buckets were passed out, each boy determined to do every part of the cleaning process.

As the buckets filled with water from the garden hose, Mr. Molina came down the pathway of the house, stopping by their car wash set-up with the widest grin.

“Is that a 1990 Chevy?” He asked, patting the hood of the van. “I had one just like this in the nineties, back when I was still filming wedding videos and playhouse archives. The only thing that could hold all my equipment.”

Reggie leaned over to Alex, and whispered. “He’s that old?”

He shook him off, not warranting his question with a response.

“It’s our new band van,” Luke told him, a little proud of their tiny milestone. They all knew a band van was a mere few steps away from a _tour_ bus. “Alex scored us with this.”

“Ay _mijo_ , good job.” The older man directed to Alex. “Believe it or not, you never want to get too good of car as your first,” Mr. Molina explained, examining the small scuffs and faded paint job. “Especially if you are going to be carrying equipment. You want something that can take a beating and can handle it too.”

“She just needs a good cleaning,” Alex insisted, puffing up his chest a bit. “Rachel is as steady as they come.” He’d only had a handful of conversations with Mr. Molina. Mostly about school, the band, and his parents. Polite, decent conversation, and Alex very much feeling scared and like a child before the man.

He just didn’t want to disappoint Julie’s dad; he was sort of the coolest and kindest parent he knew—besides his own mother, that is.

“How’s the engine?” Mr. Molina asked, popping open the hood. “Not giving you any issues—"

“Dad, we were going to wash the van,” Julie interjected, a little put out.

“No washing can be done if the van is giving problems,” her father explained, voice muffled.

“Uh…” Alex glanced back at his idle bandmates, then over to Mr. Molina. “Actually, it has been sputtering…”

“Ay, come here,” Mr. Molina motioned him over, “come look at this—Reggie, get me a rag and my tool box.”

The other boy ran off, happy to help, leaving Luke and Julie standing. Neither looked pleased at the little detour in their task.

“Dad—”

“Julie, why don’t you water the plants?” Mr. Molina suggested. “That’s what I was coming out here to do anyway. They are looking a little sad, _mija_.”

Julie didn’t argue, instead leading Luke up the steps to the side yard where the Molina’s vast foliage resided.

“Ay—” Mr. Molina called out, head stick out from under the hood. “I said ‘Julie.’”

Slumped in on himself, Luke backtracked his steps, plopping down on the ground by the forgotten buckets.

Mr. Molina wasn’t joking when he set those ground rules. The boys learned that fast in the single week Reggie had become a permanent resident in _Casa Molina_. Monday night had been fun, helping Reggie unpack and eating their weight in enchilada’s but once it was eight o’clock, Mr. Molina sent Alex and Luke packing, dropping off the boys at their respective houses. Then Tuesday was less fun since all of them had boat-loads of homework, which only led to maybe an hour or two of rehearsal, much to everyone’s disappointment. Wednesday was only slightly better, but Alex had to leave early for youth group, only for Mr. Molina to send Luke along with him. Apparently, Luke’s mom wanted him home at a decent hour or at the very least not spending the entire afternoon rehearsing, and Mr. Molina was all too happy to help with that endeavor.

Poor Luke was often subjected to sitting next to Mr. Molina at dinner, Julie usually on the opposite end of the table, and not once had he been knowingly left alone with her since Reggie moved in.

Alex personally believed it was because Mr. Molina had too much on his mind and didn’t need to worry about the _JUKE_ (Julie-and-Luke; surprisingly Reggie coined it) of it all, when he needed to focus on Reggie being comfortable. Perhaps it was better to keep them apart and in sight, than together and alone doing who knows what.

Not that anything _happens_ or _has happened_ , as Luke so adamantly put.

Giving his down-and-out friend a sad smile, Alex made his way to Mr. Molina.

Only to stand awkwardly at his side. The car engine looked like a visual foreign language to him, or better yet abstract art.

Abstract art usually caused Alex anxiety, he nearly passing out during his Art classes museum visit last semester when he stood staring at a Jackson Pollock for too long.

“You see this,” Mr. Molina motions to a valve, “your engine is not getting enough air. That’s what’s causing the sputtering. At least that’s what I think.”

“Oh—I didn’t know that was a thing,” Alex confessed. “My dad sort of just handed me the keys, and nothing else. He’s not really a car guy.”

Mr. Molina’s eyes softened, he giving Alex a comforting pat on the shoulder. “I’ll show you around the engine…”

For the next half hour, Mr. Molina patiently explained the workings of the van, answering any question, Alex had, even the lame ones, with ease and gentleness.

For once, Alex didn’t have anxiety about the car, driving, or anything really.

Maybe all he needed was patience and understanding.

(Was this about the car? Or something else…Alex pushed those thoughts away. He couldn’t let this be about something else—the something else the neon flashing light in his head declaring “YOU ARE GAY” and “HERE IS AN ADULT WHO’D ACCEPT YOU” and “STOP BEING AN IDIOT AND WORRY-WART. JUST TELL SOMEONE”.)

Thank God, Mr. Molina had just that.

“I’m gay,” Alex blurted out as Mr. Molina shut the hood. He didn't mean to say, it just happened. But it was out there now.

The man looked over at him, brows furrowed. “Oh, _mijo_ , I know.”

And that was that.

No surprise.

No reaction.

Just an ‘I know.’

Alex hugged the man.

Warm hands patted his back, Mr. Molina seeming to understand maybe this was a big moment for him. “Are you going to cry?” he asked, as though knowing the answer.

“No…” Alex mumbled, the tears already falling.

“Ay, dios mios,” Mr. Molina sighed. “Well, when you are done, you can help yourself to some buñuelos—”

Alex released him in record speed, and ran off into the house.

He missed out on buñuelos—the delightfully crispy and sugary treat he ever had in his life—when Tía Victoria brought them the last time. Carlos and Reggie had gobbled them all up, leaving the rest of the house pretty upset and the two with an afternoon stomach ache.

Alex was determined to not miss out this time.

* * *

“You are driving too slow,” Luke groaned from the back seat bench. Head thumping against the side of the van, he huff. “We’ll never make to the gig on time with your driving and this traffic.

“I’m going as fast as I can,” Alex glanced up at him through the rearview mirror. “If I recall correctly, I’m the only one here who even has a license!”

“He has a point,” Julie said, almost apologetic. A sense of relief seemed to settle over her, perhaps happy she claimed the passenger seat instead of being in the back with Reggie, Luke and their jam packed instruments.

She could have gone with Flynn, who had was driving herself to Flannigan’s, along with a couple of classmates. But Julie didn’t. Alex was glad he at least someone to commiserate with.

“I have tried,” Luke shouted, a cymbal smacking against his head again. “It’s not my fault the DMV makes it hell!”

“You’ve failed the driver’s test six times,” Reggie reminded him all too swiftly. “And had to retake the permit test twice after you lost it the first twelve months.”

“It’s the blinker and the roundabouts—”

“Not the fact you went sixty miles per hour in a school zone to the point you had an automatic fail?” Alex remarked, recalling a disappointed and overly depressed Luke entering the studio after the test.

“Or how you did the entire exam without your seat belt buckled?” Julie added, a held back laugh slipping through her lips.

“Okay, maybe I suck at driving,” Luke relented, giving a ‘what-can-you-do’ look, “but I know how to drive and I’d already have us at the venue if I was the one behind the wheel.”

“Not going to happen,” Alex told him point blank. “We’d be dead if you drove—or worse, get a ticket.”

“Your mom would kill you if you got Alex a ticket,” Reggie said to Luke. But the boy didn’t listen, leg jiggling as he checked the time, then the bumper to bumper traffic. “Like grounded for life. No music, no friends, no Ju—”

“Let me drive!” Luke dove between the two front seats, Alex near swerving at the jump.

“Ah! Get back!” Alex shoved at Luke’s face, attempting to push him away with one hand while keeping the other tight on the wheel. He slapped at Luke’s neck and nose, ready to use his elbow if it meant shoving the guy back where he belonged. Yet Luke persevered, able to hold on to edge of the passenger and driver seat and get his legs over the middle console. He tried to squeeze himself in the space between the arm rest and Alex with no avail. “Luke! Get off me!”

Alex gave one more shove, only for Luke to stumble back and land on Julie.

She yelped, trying to catch him before he hurt himself, or hit his head on the window or dashboard. Luke’s chest and head more so landed on her lap while his legs were caught over the middle console.

“Ack! Julie! Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Luke muttered, trying his best to sit up without touching her, which was near impossible. “Sorry!”

“Just stop moving!” She scolded, arms held in the air. “Reggie! Help Luke up.”

The bassist popped his head in the front, giving his bandmates a nervous smile and chuckle. “Sure, sure, can do.” He held his hand out for Luke, who accepted it willingly—

Only to push Reggie back into the backseat and attempt to get into the driver’s seat once more.

“Let me drive!”

“Get off me!”

“You are slower than slow!”

“We are in _traffic_! We can’t move!”

Limbs and hands were thrown, Luke successfully unbuckling Alex’s seatbelt in the process. A shoving battle commenced, Alex narrowly dodging a knee and a flying elbow. For once he finally got leverage despite Luke’s scrappy determination, and was about to shove Luke off him once and for all—

Horns started honking.

“Guys, the road!” Reggie called out.

Cars were moving. Standstill no more. There was road, real road, in front of them, not the harsh red lights of the Prius in front of them.

And the drivers behind them were angry.

“One of you drive!” Julie ordered.

“With pleasure!” Luke, with all confidence, sandwiched himself beside Alex—to the point, Alex jumped at the sudden invasion, and became pressed against the van door and half sitting on Luke.

The wannabe daredevil pressed on the gas, the van finally moving full speed ahead after an hour. Julie’s eyes blew wide as Luke began to weave in and out of traffic, he becoming the definition of the worst type of LA driver. Reggie in the back was no better, muttering how he was going to be sick—and just when they got the baby barf smell out of the van too.

“You are literally the worst!” Alex huffed, gripping the overhead handle for dear life.

Luke was going to get them killed. Completely and utterly killed. And in a church-turned-band van of all places—maybe God was trying to send Alex a sign that he needed to crack open his bible more, or maybe actually pay attention when his dad started to ramble during his Sunday morning sermons.

“I am actually the best!” Luke countered, a exhilarated laugh punctuating his sentence. “We are finally getting off the freeway, and on to real streets.”

“Um, we are aren’t supposed to get off the 101 yet!” Reggie called out, shoving his phone between the two front seats. “GPS says to stay on for another—”

“I know how to get there faster!” Luke, for once, turned on his blinker and switched lanes for the next exit.

“We’re never going to get to Flannigan’s,” Julie muttered.

Flannigan’s was only their second ‘real’ venue as _Julie and the Phantoms,_ not _Sunset Curve,_ where it wasn’t open mic night or sign-up sheet. They were booked, they were expected to be professional. This was just a few steps away from the Orpheum.

Missing this opportunity wasn’t an option.

“No, we are!” Alex pushed himself forward, slapped his hands against the wheel and gripped it for dear life. “ _I’m driving now_!” He bellowed down at the wheel, stunning Luke still.

Seizing his sudden advantage, Alex took over the wheel, and got them back on the right lane.

Sure, he was speeding and was praying the entire time a cop didn’t stop him, especially since Luke wasn’t sitting in a real seat and it seemed as though none of them except Julie had their seatbelts on, but Alex was determined to prove his point.

And he did.

Less than ten minutes later, he was pulling up to the back of Flannigan’s, where a crew member was waiting by the industrial door.

He set the van in park.

“We’re here.”

No one said a word. Then—

“Oh my god, dude that was so intense!” Luke punched his shoulder, bubbling with excitement. “It was like we were in _Fast and Furious_! I didn’t think you had it in you!”

“Yes! I thought we were going to die!” Reggie cheered, joining in the group hug that was now commencing in the front seat.

“But were here!” Julie reminded them, reaching into the group hug for half a second before pulling away. “And we were supposed to check in twenty minutes ago!”

“Right, right, right,” the guys all mumbled, pulling away and climbing out of the car.

In a hurry, the band started to gather what they could carry, and made their way to the awaiting back entrance.

Alex was lingering behind, attempting to carry as much as he could of his drum set.

But of course he grabbed more than he could, an a cymbal was about to go crashing down—

“Whoa! Got that for you dude!”

A head covered by a helmet came over just in the nick of time, catching the cymbal stand before it could fall, his skateboard skidding against the asphalt when he came to a full stop.

“Oh, thanks you didn’t have to—”

The guy shucked off his helmet, long dark hair released in the windy October air.

Alex’s throat dried upon seeing his saving grace.

“No worries, man,” the guy assured him, still holding the cymbal. “Are you going into Flannigan’s? Cus’ I was just going to head in there—I work part time with the sound dudes.”

“Uh yeah,” Alex stuttered, air returning to his lungs, “uh, yeah. Yeah.” He nodded, feeling a stupid grin form. “My band is playing tonight.”

“ _Julie and the Phantoms_?”

Handsome skater boy knew his band!

(Neon lights flashed in Alex’s brain—“HE KNOWS YOUR BAND.”)

“You must be the drummer—Alex, right?”

(More neon lights—“HE KNOWS YOUR NAME. _HE KNOWS YOUR NAME_!”)

“Uh, yeah.” Alex hoped he didn’t wheeze, because wow, it felt like he was wheezing.

“Sorry if that was weird—I looked you guys up when the manager here said you’d be playing. You band is going viral, dude.”

“No, no, no,” Alex shook his head, attempting to lower his voice so he didn’t sound like a completely moron near fawning over the guy. “Not weird at all. Actually, really cool.”

“ALEX!”

He snapped his head to the back door, Luke waving for him to come along.

“We got to set up, man!”

Alex sent Luke a killer glare, nudging his head to Cute-Handsome Skater Boy.

His friend frowned, until his eyes landed on the other guy.

Eyes wide, a huge, open mouth grin was sent his way, along with an encouraging thumbs up.

“Coming!” Alex shouted back, waving for Luke to go away. Far, _far_ away.

“I should let you go,” the Adorable-Cute-Handsome Skater Boy told him, giving Alex a half confident-half shy smile. How it was possible? He didn’t know, but this guy could do it and seem to catch Alex’s breath again. “I’m Willie, by the way.”

“Alex,” he hurriedly supplied, "but, uh, you knew that.”

“Yeah..” Willie—even his name was cute, _how was that possible_? "I'll see you around. And I'll make sure to put this by your set."

Willie went off into the venue, passing by Luke. 

His jaw dropped as he ran over to Alex. "He was cute!"

"Shut up," Alex muttered, shaking his head good-naturedly, "and help me get this inside."

Luke happily grabbed more of their gear. "I can see it now. You and...what's his name?"

"Willie."

"Oh, dude you got it _bad_!" Luke grinned, chuckling as they walked into the venue. "Alex and Willie. I like the sound of that."

"Me too," Alex found himself in agreement. "Me too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THEY YA GO WILLEX SHIPPERS. THEY HAVE OFFICIALLY MET!
> 
> We'll see more of Willie. Promise.
> 
> SPANISH TIME!
> 
> bunuelos ---> it's fried dough coated in cinnamon and sugars. Kind of looks like a puffed up tortillas? Not everyone likes them, but some people do *shrugs*


	5. One Man Band

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forewarning: this chapter got hella sad and sentimental. Sorry.
> 
> NOTE: I DO NOT OWN 'ONE MAN BAND' by Old Dominion. I just used a couple of lyrics for ~mood~.
> 
> Typos will be fixed later: enjoy!

* * *

Reggie learned how to hold his breath underwater at the age of seven.

Mostly because his dad told him they were moving from Washington to California, and Reggie had seen all the movies—all of California seemed to be a forever beach.

Except it wasn’t.

Lemoore was actually quite the opposite of a beach, with lots of farmland. The closest body of water was Willow Lake, and that was over 30 miles away—and it was mostly used for _fishing_.

To say Reggie was disappointed was an understatement. But he smiled and had fun, like he always did, and made friends with the other Air Force family’s kids.

He adjusted.

If there was one thing Reggie was good at, it was making-do with sudden change. He was a pro at major life adjustments, taking it like an easy afternoon breeze. One had to be when they moved around every few years due to their parents’ work.

But he kept hope.

Because he _did_ end up living by the beach (his dad got transferred to the L.A. Air Force Base when he was thirteen), right across the street. Where he could kick the sand and build sandcastles and just watch the never ending ocean. Waves crashing. Sun shining down. An ebb and flow. Feeling small and yet so massive from one second to the next.

When he looked out into the ocean, he felt he could do anything. Everything was possible when he stared into the sliver of horizon.

The same feeling when he looked out into the dancing, jumping, crowd when the band performed. They swayed and moved along to the music, like there was no other purpose in the world but to simply enjoy the moment. Like waves crashing.

Chords faded into the air, Luke’s and Julie’s harmony coming to an end.

And the feeling of possibility ended, the sound of cheers and applause filling the void.

Yet the high of the music, the escape he made as he thrummed his bass lingered. But was music an escape anymore—it hadn’t felt like a blanket resting over him after a long day. Instead it felt more fun, funner than it had been in a year or two (he tried not to think how in the last year or two his parents marriage teetered back and forth into warm and loving, to cold and callous, and maybe, somehow that was affecting him and his music, and maybe he had to force his cheerfulness extra hard when he was suddenly bombarded with random thoughts of his parents. How sometimes life got a little easier if he ignored the glaring reality.) and he was energized, wanting to play another set and another.

Reggie held his breath like he did when he dove underwater and bowed. Hands clasped to his greatest anchors—his friends.

* * *

“Dude, that guy has not stopped looking over here.” Reggie nudged Alex. The two were sitting at their band’s booth, Flannigan’s providing a meal on the house after their rather successful performance. That was kind of the cool thing about playing club restaurants and lounges, they almost always fed the band. And Reggie was always up for a meal, especially if it was free. Nothing to lose!

Lifting his head from the menu at hand, Alex perked up.

Then deflated.

“Oh, I thought you meant a, uh, different guy.” Alex’s fingers fidgeted with the edge of the menu. “Not um…that—” He lifted his gaze again only to frown. “That one.”

Both stared out to guy the moment he was no longer watching.

Tall, dark haired, dressed far too formal for Flannigan’s—a restaurant where all the wait-staff wore flannels and live rock and punk music pulsed through the building each night, and dinner glasses were broken on the regular due to the jammed packed tables.

The extremely well dressed man looked their way again. He started to walk in their direction—

“Look away— _look away_!” Alex hushed, opening his menu wider for Reggie to share. The two squeezed closer together and hunched over the menu like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

The man walked right past, not sparing them even the smallest of glances, apparently on his own mission elsewhere.

But Reggie still got the heebie-jeebies when he passed by. Cold and chilling like an evil spirit.

Or something like that. Maybe he and Carlos shouldn’t have stayed up late watching _The Shinning_.

“Okay, I knew you two were close, but sharing the menu like that is a little much,” Flynn announced, sliding into the bench opposite them. “It’s almost Luke and Julie level too much.”

Reggie scooted away from Alex, a breathy, embarrassed chuckle escaping him. _Girls, girls, girls. Pretty, pretty girls. Think of pretty girls—_ flew through Reggie’s brain. This was the ‘Luke Oozing Chemistry’ situation all over again. _“_ Nah, we’re not like that. Plus, this guy didn’t even consider me as his placeholder crush!”

“Placeholder crush?” Flynn’s eyes darted between the two, a smug smirk edging through her. “Now _who_ is your placeholder crush, Alexander?”

“No one!” Alex near shrilled, slapping the menu shut.

Flynn’s eyebrows shot up. A few people in the table near them looked their way.

Alex slumped forward, repeating—quieter this time—“No one.” He sat up a little taller once the attention faded, content to continue speaking despite the vague panic in his eyes. “Especially no one you need to be concerned about.”

“Hmm…” Flynn’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe that for a second.”

Just as Alex was about to argue otherwise, Julie came up to the table, a lemonade and a couple of business cards in her hand.

“You guys won’t believe how many agents and reps are here.” She waved the card, lifting the first. “Atlantic.” The card dropped to the table. “Island.” She dropped the next. “Fueled by Ramen—you guys, _Fueled by Ramen_!” She squealed, eyes screwed shut in delight. Ecstatic, she dropped the rest on the table, like a flurry of cardstock confetti, for the rest of them to see. “I didn’t think we got the word out soon enough about this gig, but it looks like we got a solid turn out.”

Reggie began to sift through the cards with Flynn, while Alex stared down at the mess, lips downturned.

“What’s wrong, dude?” Reggie asked, Julie and Flynn also catching his weird vibe.

“It’s just that…we’ve gotten these cards from reps and agents before,” Alex relented, apologetic, “back with Sunset Curve. And look where that got us before.”

The excitement at the table diminished. All of them were bummed out at the harsh reminder of Sunset Curve's fate.

Reggie didn’t like this. So he had to fix it.

“Luke will definitely want to see these,” he assured Julie, a little light brought back into her warm eyes. “Sure, he probably wouldn’t want to talk with Atlantic since the whole Bobby thing—but he’d definitely like to see the others! It’s so awesome we have even got this far right now!”

“Speaking of Luke,” Flynn drawled out, ready to change to conversation—talking about agents and reps caused various, often polarizing reactions from everyone; a conversation better saved for the privacy of the studio, “where is boy-wonder?”

The tallest of them, Alex stood up, seemingly catching sight of their friend. “Oh there he is— _wait nevermind, forget it_!” He blurted out, plopping back down into his seat. “Nothing, nothing—forget it!”

Reggie began to stand, to get his own look, only for Alex to yank him back down into his seat.

“What?” Julie frowned, whipping her head around to where Alex had last looked.

Now that the crowd had slightly dissipated, they had a clear shot of Luke—

Who was surrounded by gaggles of girls and young women, all hoping to get an autograph or picture with the rising star. He chuckled at what one of them said, shaking his head but then agreeing to something else.

Luke really did relish in the mini-stardom. He wasn’t even really trying. Just being normal, nice, and sometimes a little too polite Luke.

In front of them, Julie frowned.

“ _Oh_ ,” she uttered.

She turned back around, a shaky breath escaping her. “I think I’m going to go get a refill—”

“But your glass is full,” Reggie reminded her, the lemonade barely touched.

“ _Shut up_ , Reggie,” Alex muttered, sending his stern, wide eyes. He turned back to Julie with an easy gaze, nodding in understanding. “Go ahead Jules. We’ll wait to order until you’re ready. Take your time.”

Swallowing tightly, with a smile to accompany, Julie gave a cut nod and left back to the bar area.

The table watched her go.

Reggie sighed. “I feel bad.”

“Me too,” Flynn added, chin resting in her palm. “Someone needs to knock sense into that pretty-boy.”

Alex leaned back in his seat, arms crossed. He gave a helpless shrug. “Luke isn’t doing anything on purpose to hurt her. He’s just being an oblivious idiot. We can’t help that.” His eyebrows pinched, deep in thought. “We’ve all tried.”

“But she’s hurt,” Reggie chewed on the inside of his cheek, eyes still on their lead singer. “Julie doesn’t deserve to be hurt.”

“I know, buddy. I know.” Alex patted his shoulder, resting it there for a second. “But we can’t force things between Julie and Luke. Especially since something weird _did_ happen—”

Mid-sentence he dropped his hand down and shoved Reggie further down the booth.

“Ow! Hey—”

“Willie!” Alex yelped, grinning up at the guy as he passed by.

Oh, this was _The Willie._

The long hair dude stopped, back tracking until he was standing by their table once again.

“Hey Alex,” he smiled down at Alex, his giddiness and smiles matching back in enthusiasm. “You were awesome out there! You really get into the music; it’s sort of—” Willie’s eyes then traveled to Reggie and Flynn, as though remembering they were also there—just a couple seconds too late. “Um, you were great too, dude,” he nodded to Reggie, the epitome of polite and kindness. “All of you. I can see why you guys are booming.”

“Thanks,” Reggie beamed. “It’s really in the—”

Flynn’s foot met his shin.

Reggie swallowed a yelp, whimpering towards her.

She rolled her eyes.

“It’s a group effort,” Alex explained, bashful. He shrugged in on himself, his humbleness winning over. “I can never take all the credit.”

Willie jutted his thumb over to the stage. “If you need help taking you drum set back to the van—”

“Yes!” Alex stood up, nearly knocking his glass of water over. “Yeah, yeah. I can always use help. We can go now if you want?” He was already sliding out of the booth, standing beside Willie, looking at him like he hung the moon.

“Sure.” Willie chuckled. “I’ll follow your lead.”

For once, with ease and lack of nervousness, Alex happily led the way to the van, saying quick goodbyes to both Flynn and Reggie.

“He has it bad…” Flynn dragged out, her face full of shock and excitement. “But I like this for him. He needs someone new—Danny was terrible and doing the math, his placeholder crush is probably no better.” Her stare traveled to Luke who seemed to be trying to peel away from his fangirls, but was more than struggling. A nine year old was practically glued to his leg, crying out whenever her older sister tried to pull her off Luke. “Someone needs to save him before he accidently accepts a marriage proposal in an attempt to flee.”

Flynn and Reggie’s eyes locked, a battle of wills commencing. “Nose-Goes on three!”

“ _One, two, three!”_

Flynn was just a hair too slow, her finger smashing more into her eye than nose.

“No!” She cried out, flopping face first against the table. A half-heart sob of distress escaped her, the sound echoing against the finished wood. Only for Flynn to sit right side up two seconds later and shake her shoulders out. “Mama needs to bring out the big guns to face them.” She slid out of the booth and marched out to battle.

He wasn’t too sure if he wanted to witness Flynn making a little girl cry, so he stayed put.

Finding himself alone, Reggie began to play with the forgotten straw wrappers on their table. He expected this to happen at some point in the evening, just not in this particular way. More like Julie and Luke canoodling, Flynn mingling like a pro, and Alex attempting to hang out with his new friend (Luke gossiped like a school girl the moment he was alone with the band, Alex ready to tackle him to the ground in embarrassment).

As though sensing his thoughts and lonesomeness, Julie slid into Flynn’s vacant spot.

“Hey.” She sighed, looking down at her once again full lemonade. Except this time it had a cherry and pink umbrella. Bright and colorful, just like Julie. Pitifully, she sipped through her straw, another sigh coming from her.

“You know he doesn’t do that on purpose right?” Reggie decided to not beat around the bush. “Luke is just being nice.”

“But this is the third gig in a row he’d been bombarded by girls.” She rolled her eyes, only to frown, her guilt washing over her. “I mean, I get it. He’s…Luke.” A dreaminess entered her, a small smile gracing her lips. “And I like that people like him and think he’s great! I just wish…” She shook her head, curls bouncing. “It’s stupid. I shouldn’t even be feeling like this.”

“I think it’s okay to feel…left out,” Reggie settled on, knowing not to provoke the Julie-Bear too much. “I think we all feel a little left out sometimes.”

“I guess that’s one way to put it,” Julie shrugged. Picking out the umbrella in her drink, she twirled it between her fingers. “It’s just not the right time for—”

“ _Juke_?” Reggie interjected cheekily, well aware of the Juke of it all. Plus it was difficult to keep things from each other when you shared a wall; Reggie had heard a rather length conversation between Julie and Flynn about Luke a couple of nights previous.

And Reggie did not have the best filter to keep the information locked away from her; mostly because he’d feel guilty if he didn’t tell her he knew all the details of her feelings for their friend. And Julie was scary as hell when she used her Mom Voice.

“Sure,” Julie tossed the umbrella to him, Reggie happily accepting, “not the right time for _Juke_. We have the band to think about and I know enough about the rock bands of yester-years to know dating amongst each other is big fat ‘no’. Fleetwood Mac anyone?”

Reggie winced. “You _would_ force Luke to sing songs about your relationship.”

“Who’s to say I haven’t already?” Julie taunted back smugly.

“No way!” Reggie jaw dropped, the thrill of mystery beckoning him. “ _Which one-which one-which one?”_

She zipped her lips and tossed the key. “I’ll never say!”

The two folded into giggles, still laughing by the time a disgruntled Flynn and exhausted looking Luke came ambling back.

“What’s up with you two?” Luke mumbled, taking a seat beside Julie. When they looked back at him, their laugher returned in tenfold, Reggie more so wheezing than anything. “What? Why are you guys laughing at me?”

“When isn’t there a reason to laugh at you?” Flynn shot back, hand on her hip. Checking her watch, she huffed. “Ugh. I need to get going. Got some curfews to uphold. Text me deets in the chat if anything happens—like talking to potential agents…” she trailed off wiggling her eyebrows. “Because they’ll need to talk to me before you guys agree to anything questionable!”

Nodding at the three, she gave a final wave of goodbye before rounding up her carpool crew and taking their leave, Reggie and Julie catching their breath in nick of time to utter a quick goodbye.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starving,” Luke groaned, reaching for a menu at the center of the table. “Do they have loaded potato wedges here? I am pretty sure I saw someone eating potato wedges…” His brows furrowed, bringing the menu all the way up to his eyeballs “Oo! They have loaded hotdogs—”

Julie nose wrinkled. “No hotdogs. If I’m splitting something with you, it’s not going to be hotdogs.”

“Oh we’re splitting?” Luke teased back, bumping her shoulder with his.

“Of course! We always split—”

“But what if I am extra hungry and want all the food to myself?”

“Then we’ll order an extra side? You never even eat your vegetables—”

“That was one time and they were raw!”

“It was sushi! You literally tore apart the roll to get the veggies out!”

Like clockwork, Julie and Luke fell into their own little world, Reggie left in amusement.

One day they’d figure out the Juke of it all, but right now Reggie was content to be their number one fan and matchmaker.

* * *

They did not leave the venue until closing time. Thankfully Julie had the sense to warn Ray of the possibility prior to that evening since the venue was a little outside their normal perimeter, closer to Orange County than the greater LA area. This meant giving Ray updates every few hours, but it was worth it, the band able to enjoy being out at a gig and in no rush to hurry home.

However, closing time was 1AM and Alex was near dead on his feet. He was a natural early riser and went to bed at nine like a grandpa; there were several pictures of previous late nights where Luke and Reggie had a little too much fun with a magic marker and Alex’s sleeping face. Perfect blackmail if the occasion ever arose.

“Alex, just let me drive,” Luke insisted from the backseat. Julie had already nodded off on his shoulder, drool begging to drip from her open mouth.

Yeah, Julie wasn’t all that pretty sleeper, but she was too sweet to bother.

“Yeah right,” Alex mumbled, rubbing his eyes at the wheel. They had stopped at a McDonald’s 24HR drive-through to grab coffee, needing the caffeine to remain awake during the near two hour drive if traffic permitted. “Last time you nearly crashed.”

“I promise I’ll follow the speed limit!” Luke whisper shouted, being mindful of the sleeping girl. “You’ll fall asleep. I know it.”

The drive-through window opened, Alex turning to greet the cashier. “Yup, a large black iced coffee, a caramel, and a French vanilla,” he echoed back. A drink carrier was passed over to him, then passed over to Reggie.

He grabbed his French Vanilla and set it in the cup holder and did the same for Alex’s black coffee before passing back the last drink to Luke.

Taking the drink, he set it in the backseat cupholder and accepted the straw Reggie offered.

“This isn’t me wanting to drive. I really don’t want to drive,” Luke said, stabbing his straw on his thigh to break the paper-wrapper seal. “This is me being concerned for you.”

Driving out of the drive-through, Alex paused. “Well as much as I appreciate your concern, I’ll be fine.”

“I can always drive,” Reggie took a loud sip of his coffee, “I have my license.”

Luke and Alex whipped around to Reggie, stunned. “You…have your…license?” Alex stated, as though he could not believe the words were coming out of his mouth.

Reggie hummed in agreement. “Yup.”

“Since when?” Luke hissed. If it weren’t for Julie using him as a pillow, he’d probably jump into the front seat and demand all the answers.

“Since last year?” Reggie took another thoughtful sip of his drink. “I got it on my sixteenth birthday. Aced the test in one go.”

“Are. You. _Freaking_. Kidding. Me?” Luke gritted. “I thought we were in this together, dude!”

“I just thought you didn’t care to learn,” Alex said on the contrary, taking a left into the McDonald’s parking lot. “This is honestly a nice surprise.”

“All this time you _knew_?” Luke continued to rant, half whisper-half shout, looking like a soda ready to burst with his bubbling frustration. “And here I was thinking ‘at least Reggie doesn’t have his license either,’ but no! I’m the dumbass here.”

“Not new information,” Alex mumbled, parking the van. He unbuckled his seatbelt and crawled out of the driver’s seat towards the back. “The wheel is all yours, buddy.” Patting Reggie’s shoulder, he waved for him to switch seats.

“Cool.” Wide awake, unlike his friends, Reggie accepted his new role and easily climbed over into the driver’s seat. Alex was quick to sit down in the passenger seat, looking more tired than he initially let on. Both buckled up, Reggie giving Alex a short nod as he began to reverse the van and get back on the freeway.

He entered and switched lanes with the calmness of a master. With a dad who was fully prepared to make sure his son hit the necessary life milestones, learning how to drive, the right way, was always at the top of the list.

It was one of the few skills Reginald Sr. took the time to work on with Reggie.

From the rearview mirror, Reggie could see Luke scowling at him.

“What else do you know how to do Reginald, that we don’t know about?” he asked, eyes narrowing in a poor interrogation attempt.

“Um…” Reggie considered the question carefully, debating on whether or not to start listing or shrug it off. “I know how to replace a flat tire, pitch a tent, shot a BB gun, tie knots, start a fire—”

“Okay we get it, you were in Boy Scouts,” Luke mumbled, slouching furth into the backseat bench. “You’d be able to survive in the wild.”

Reggie nose scrunched. “Not really. I’m pretty sure I’d miss music. Can’t live without that.”

“Me too,” Alex remarked, head leaning against the window. “We’d be stuck with radio pop music if we could get signal out in the wild.”

All three shuddered at the thought.

Reggie double checked his GPS, making sure to stay on the right lane.

“Hey guys, when we are talking wild, are we talking mountain-forest area or—”

Glancing away from the road, he found both Luke and Alex fast asleep. Luke’s face nudged into Julie’s hair an arm wrapped protectively around her, while Alex curled up into ball, lanky limbs tucked under his chin.

“Or, uh, never mind.”

Reaching for his coffee, Reggie took a tiny sip before reach for the radio. Volume low, he flicked through the station, landing on the familiar COUNTRY 105. The crone of Old Dominion’s ‘One Man Band’ softly filled the quiet van.

_“I don't wanna be a one man band_

_  
I don't wanna be a rolling stone, alone_

_  
Putting miles on a run-down van…”_

* * *

When he pulled up to the Molina residence, Reggie was surprised to find the living room light on.

As quietly as he could, in an effort to not wake his friends, Reggie climbed out of the car and made his way to the house.

The door opened before Reggie could put his key on the lock.

“Long night?” Ray asked, sleepy but awake. Waiting up for them.

“Uh yeah,” Reggie motioned to behind him, “actually, everyone else is asleep in the van. I need help waking them up.”

The man didn’t ask any further questions, letting Reggie led the way down to the van. Luckily, Alex was already rousing, blinking blearily at them through the window. Reggie opened the door for him, Alex grabbing both their backpacks as he left towards the house.

Ray on the other hand was met with a less than pleasing sight—at least in his eyes, not so much Reggie’s.

Luke and Julie asleep in the backseat.

But Ray did something Reggie did not expect—he gently shook Luke awake and helped him get out without disturbing Julie too much.

There were no words exchanged.

No glares or grumbles, or scolding for Luke and Julie to be apart.

Just Ray making sure Luke was awake, and silently urging him to go into the house. Luke had kept his head down, grabbed his belongings and followed after Alex who waited up a few steps ahead.

Ray only woke Julie up once the other boy was long gone.

It was then, as Reggie witnessed the father gently help his drowsy daughter out of the car and began to walk with her up the stairs, did he realized maybe Ray _didn’t_ not like Luke for Julie.

Maybe the whole Luke-and-Julie thing had nothing to do with Luke at all.

Maybe Ray just didn’t want his daughter to get hurt, or be embarrassed.

“Are you coming, _mijo_?” Ray nodded his head towards the house. “Don’t want you hanging out here by yourself.”

“Uh, yeah,” Reggie nodded, still hanging out by the passenger’s seat. He grabbed his empty coffee cup, and closed the door. “Just need to lock up the car.”

“Don’t stay out too long.” With that he entered the house after Julie.

As he ran around to the driver’s side to pressed the door locks (damn early 90s cars and their lack of fobs), his phone went off in his pocket.

A series of text notifications lit up screen, Reggie frowning down at the near spam level of messages.

**_ Carolyn  _ ** **** **(10:16PM)**

**_I just found out what happened with your parents._ **

**_I’m sorry._ **

****

**_ Carolyn  _ ** **(10:20PM)**

**_I know I am a week late to the party,_ **

**_but please know I want to talk._ **

****

**_Carolyn_** **(10:31PM)**

**_You know you can talk to me about anything._ **

**_Even this._ **

****

**_ Carolyn  _ ** **_(_ ** **10:53PM)**

**_I know things are weird now because of my cousin_ **

**_But that doesn’t mean we can’t talk anymore._ **

****

**_ Carolyn  _ ** **(11:11PM)**

**_If I’d know you’d be essentially abandoned,_ **

**_then I could have figured out something._ **

**_My house has WAY more room than Julie’s._ **

**_You’d never even see him unless you wanted to._ **

****

**_ Carolyn  _ ** **(11:14PM)**

**_And my parents love you._ **

**_They are even shocked about this._ **

****

**_ Carolyn  _ ** **(11:36PM)**

**_Really? You’re just going to ignore me?_ **

****

**_Carolyn_** **(12:05AM)**

**_Reggie come on!_ **

**_Carolyn_** **(12:08AM)**

**_FINE._ **

**_Be that way._ **

**_Loose my number._ **

**_Don’t even bother calling._ **

****

**_ Carolyn  _ ** **(2:47AM)**

**_I just realized you have a gig tonight._ **

****

**_Carolyn_** **(2:50AM)**

**_Please ignore the last four messages._ **

**_I was being dumb._ **

**_Please._ **

****

He didn’t reply.

Instead, Reggie pocketed his phone and went inside the house. The lights in the living room were shut off, the hall and upstairs landing light his only guide.

Making sure to lock the door behind him, Reggie made his way upstairs. He bypassed Julie’s room (she was awake, her lamp’s warm glow streaming from under the door), and stopped by his cracked open door.

Laying on the trundle bed, Alex slept curled in a ball while Luke was laying in the opposite direction, half falling off the edge. Both were back into deep sleep, as though their little detour from van to house was nothing but lucid dreaming. Reggie dropped his phone, wallet, and key on his desk and shrugged off his jacket, along with shoes before falling face first into bed, not bothering with changing.

He could deal with a shower, unloading the van with the guys, and text back his spammer in the morning.

All he wanted at the moment was to sleep in his own bed. And he did just that, with dreams filled of ocean waves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason this chapter was hard to write? Who knew Reggie would be my trickiest POV.
> 
> Anyways...WHO IS CAROLYN?
> 
> I know who she is. 
> 
> Also, did anyone catch Bobby is THEIR AGE? Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm. What happened to him?
> 
> AND STARING GUY IN FORMAL LIKE WEAR--WHO ARE YOU? Tbh, I think we all know who he is.


	6. Sunday-Funday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Typos will be fixed later. I am positive there are plenty.
> 
> Warning: mentions of homophobia
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

Sundays were the best days in Ray’s humble opinion.

Especially in the autumn and winter. _Caldos_ could be prepped in the morning, filling then entire house with warmth. No one in the house had obligations outside of the house, the spent picking up on leftover chores, watching baseball together, and simply relax together as a family.

Ray believed Sunday’s were _holy_. Not even the boys bothered with stopping by, too busy with their own families and catching up on homework (Lord knows how often he caught Julie attempting to finish her assignments on Sunday afternoons). Back when his dear Rose was alive and singing in the halls, she’d make the day special. Baking cookies or sweets, starting a craft project on the dinning room table, playing music for their own dance party in the kitchen. They’d cook together as a family, she guiding Julie’s hand with the knife as they chopped the vegetables and he teaching Carlos how to put in the right amount of spices to make the perfect _Caldo de Res_. Mistakes were made, lessons were learned, and memories were cherished in the kitchen.

Rose brought a life of fun and joy, her echoes lingering in her house every Sunday.

Ray tried his best to keep the tradition alive, but it was difficult. He did not have the same enthusiasm as Rose, who’d wake up at the crack of dawn to make pancakes with smiley faces. Or the brilliance to write mad-libs songs with Julie every Sunday morning as they folded the laundry together.

He wasn’t his wife. A harsh reality as the children began to sleep in on Sundays and lazy about until it was time for bed.

But with time he tried his best to uphold old traditions and mend them with the emerging new.

Just half past nine and the caldo was on the stove, cooking, steam wafting up into the air.

The first caldo of the autumn.

Sitting by the counter, Ray carefully chopped the onions and cilantro to add once the caldo was done. Each ingredient was deposited in a small condiment bowl, awaiting for lunch.

Above him he heard feet upstairs. He knew Reggie was awake, the boy coming down for a glass of water and small cup of coffee before tucking away back to his room. He offered to help, but Ray sent him along, encouraging him to do his own laundry before Julie took over the machines.

Soft singing from the stairs told Ray it was his daughter welcoming the morning.

“Morning, dad.” She came over to him, pressing a small kiss to his cheek. She rounded around to the fridge and pulled out orange juice. “The _caldo_ smells amazing,” she praised, grabbing a cup from the cabinet. She poured herself juice, humming as she did so. Everything was a musical for his _hija_. He loved it. “Did you follow mom’s recipe?”

“Down to a T,” he promised. “Wouldn’t make it any other way.”

She smiled into her cup, before a seriousness settled over her. “I have a question to ask.”

“Shot,” Ray nodded to her, reaching for the lemons on the counter. He cut one in half, then in fours.

“So I know he was here yesterday…” She began, leaning against the counter beside him. Ray braced himself for the impending question: ‘ _can Luke come over_?’ “But I was wondering if Alex can stop by later? After he gets out of church.”

Ray stopped short.

He wasn’t expect that.

“Sure.” He cut another lemon in half and then a fours. Repeated, comforting motions. “But doesn’t Alex usually spend Sunday’s with his family?”

“Yeah,” Julie’s lips pursed, drawing invisible lines on the counter. “But things are getting kind of weird with his parents.”

“Weird how?”

“Weird like…” She trailed off, eyes screwed shut behind her glasses. Clear distress for her friend. “…they don’t know he’s gay, Dad. And he thinks they are starting to figure it out and kind of doesn’t want to be around them.”

“Is he afraid how they’ll react?” Ray asked carefully.

Julie nodded, biting her lips together.

“He can come over whenever he wants,” Ray said without one ounce of hesitation. Alex was a good kid and the Bennet’s were good people, but he knew something like this could implode. If he could offer the boy some refuge, even if it was for an afternoon where he didn’t have to be worried, then so be it. The boy deserved some peace. “No matter the time or day. Make sure he understands that.”

His daughter’s worry melted away. Throwing her arms around him, she gave him a warm hug. “Thanks, Papi.”

“Of course, mija. Of course.”

* * *

Reggie had been glued to his phone all weekend.

Checking it over and over, yet never quiet typing anything out.

Ray noticed the look of panic and unsureness in the boy; a constant second guessing he tried to push away.

He tried to do his homework. (Reggie mostly stared down at Catch in the Rye with blank interest.)

He tried to watch the game with Carlos. (So lost in his daze, he nearly tumbled off the couch in fright when the room cheered at the Dodgers homerun.)

He tried to even pay attention to Alex and Julie conversation in the living room (they’d both been invested in a new TV show on Netflix, binging it several times in hope it’d get picked up for another season), but the poor boy seemed lost in another world.

Without a doubt, Ray knew it had to be about a girl. Or a boy. Someone who caught a small grip on Reggie’s heart and twisted it to-and-fro.

All he needed to do was wait for Reggie to come to him. The boy had a habit of seeking advice from him, even of the most mundane matters—

_Should he rearrange his room again? How were whites and colors supposed to be separate, and what about the clothes that had colors and whites in them? Was it normal for his eyes to twitchy, because they often felt twitchy? Could an avocado last more than a day out, even though it got those weird squiggles in it—because he ate it and he didn’t want to get sick._

_—_ and Ray accepted each and everyone with his own thoughtful answer and attempted calm patience. He wanted Reggie to know he could come to him about anything, same as his children, and not be afraid to voice his concerns and opinions.

That’s what family was for—to love, understand, and help without judgement.

“Hey Ray,” Reggie greeted as he came over to the dining table.

Ray looked up from his email, seeing boy shuffle around where he stood at the edge of the table. He was trying to finish any miscellaneous work and memos sent over the weekend before going back into the office on Monday. But that could wait in light of Reggie’s distress.

“ _Que pasa_?” Ray asked. Taking his acknowledgement as an invitation, Reggie sat down in the seat beside him, bursting with nervous energy. That was…odd. Nervousness was never quite associated with the boy, Reggie expressive and vibrating with zest. Not hands fiddling-leg jiggling anxiety.

“So…” Reggie began. “Let’s say…I had a friend.”

Ray blinked at him. “You have many friends.”

“Yeah, yeah. But let’s say I have a _different_ friend.”

Oh dear, the boy was starting the conversation with a scenario.

Taking one more glance at his emails, Ray shut his laptop closed and gave Reggie his undivided attention. “Okay—a different friend.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Reggie stressed, laying his hands flat on the table, phone tossed to the side. “A different friend who maybe isn’t the nicest.”

“Not the nicest to you?”

“No,” Reggie shook his head, “she’s nice to me, but she’s kind of terrible to everyone else.” His face twisted in pain, sinking lower towards the table. “And I like her— _as friend_ ,” he swiftly interjected a second later, “but I know my other friends don’t like her for many reasons.”

“I see,” Ray dropped his chin into the palm of his hand, mulling over the rather vague situation. “But she’s been a good friend to you?”

“Always has been. Even when I stopped talking to her,” Reggie confessed, dejected. He scrubbed his face, an aggravated sigh escaping him. “Why is talking to girl’s so hard?” he groaned.

“You talk to Julie just fine,” Ray teased.

“That’s different. She’s _Julie_ ,” Reggie gagged a little, “no offense. She’s like a little sister and,” he shook his head. “Nope.” Ray laughed at the boy’s adamant refusal and horror. “Same with Flynn; they’re like the sisters I never got. Talking with them is like talking to the guys.”

“So, this other girl,” Ray careful tread around the phrase, “she’s not like the other girl’s in your life.”

Reggie’s sagging shoulders answered the question.

“And she cares about you and is nice to you, even though she might not be the nicest to others?”

“Yes.”

“Let me guess your loyalty to your other friends,” Ray’s eyes darted to where Alex and Julie were watching TV while they slowly completed their homework, “is stopping you from speaking to this girl?”

“Yeah,” Reggie uttered, head falling into his folded arms. He laid there, defeated. “I don’t want to hurt anyone or get anyone upset.”

“But you really want to talk to this girl?”

Ray knew the feeling. His Rose was not his some if his friends’ favorite person in the world; they found her too bubbly or too blunt, too loud or too smothering. But Ray liked her the moment he laid eyes on her, and knew he wanted to be part of her world, no matter what that meant.

“If you really like this girl and care for her,” Ray began knowing this advice could be both great and terrible depending on how well the kids take it, and if Reggie even acts on it at all, “talk to her. By the sounds of it, she clearly wants to talk to you. I know you say she isn’t kind to your friends and they don’t necessarily like her, but that does not mean you cannot be her friend. Maybe she needs one right now.”

Lifting his face from the crook of his arm, Reggie’s concern smoothed out. “I get it. But what if my friends give me hard time?”

“What if they don’t?” Ray countered. “You’ll never know until you cross that bridge.”

That seemed to get through to Reggie, the boy sitting back up and grabbing his phone. “Thanks Ray, that really helped.”

“Happy to help, _mijo_.”

“Dad!” Carlos called from upstairs. “My XBOX isn’t connecting to the internet again!”

“Ay, duty calls.”

As Ray left, he saw Reggie begin to type on his phone, his lost boyish grin returning.

Nothing could keep Reggie down for long. Not even girl troubles.

* * *

Alex stayed for an early dinner before taking his leave.

Filled with two servings of _caldo_ , the boy eating to his heart’s content, Ray walked him back to the van.

“Thanks for letting me hang out today,” Alex said as they came up to curb. “I know Sundays are reserved for family, but I just…” His head bowed down, helpless. “I just needed to get out of the house today. Especially after this morning.”

“Did something happen?” The question was simple, but Alex’s face screwed up in deep confusion. Like he did not know which way was right and left, or up and down. Just stuck.

Biting his lips together, the boy’s shoulders dropped lower. “You…you know how my dad is a pastor?” Not waiting for Ray to answer, Alex plowed through, as though he’d loose his confidence to do so if he waited any longer. “Well today a couple—a gay couple—came to church. And I’ve never seen that before…people…people who were like _me_. Who were gay and still went to church.” A chuckle of disbelief left him, a flash of joy in his eyes—but then it was gone. “I was so in awe, I want to go say ‘hi,’ just make them feel welcomed, but my dad beat me to it.” Anger and pain rested upon him, Ray never once witnessing Alex so distraught. “He told them to leave. That they were not welcomed. And I just…” He have a shaky exhale, yet none of the pain faded away from his face. “I couldn’t be around him.”

“I see.” Ray did not know what to say. He felt ill-equipped for this type of situation.

What did one say to comfort a boy who felt he could not be in his own home?

“How am I supposed to tell him I’m gay, when he won’t even let a gay couple attend his church?” Alex’s desperation broke through, his voice horse and tired. A boy simply finding his was at the end of his hope.

“I don’t know,” Ray confessed, believing honesty was the best policy. “I don’t know. But what I do know is your parents love you and care about you. I’ve seen it. And I’m not saying it’ll be easy…” That felt like a sour understatement. “It probably won’t. But I believe you will find the right words and the right time to tell them, and you cannot be upset with yourself if they react poorly. You can’t control that, Alex.”

“I know.” Alex crossed his arms over his chest, hugging himself. “It just sucks.”

“Yeah,” Ray breathed out. “It does. I really does suck.” Resting a hand on Alex’s shoulder, he met him eye for eye. “But I believe you are strong, and we are always in your corner.”

“Really?” For once it sounded as though he wasn’t holding the world on his shoulders.

“Yes,” Ray gave his shoulder a squeeze, “my door is always open. If you need to just get away, you can come over. Just let Julie or I know.”

“Okay,” Alex nodded, inhaling deeply, “okay.”

He did not sound as sure as he looked, but Ray could only hope Alex would find some peace in his situation. That was all he could do, after all Alex was not his child, but his daughter’s friend.

If only he didn’t feel like he was sending the kid into the battle field.

* * *

Sundays were the best days. But sometimes the day ended all too soon.

Once nine o’clock rolled around, Ray urged Carlos to bed and shut off his XBOX, taking the controller with him. His son was prone to waking up in the middle of the night to play his video games, disregarding bed time and the importance of sleep.

Julie was still awake, homework done, and texting away on her phone—it took one loud giggle and an infectious giddy smile for him to know she was messaging Luke.

Then the next door down, just a few feet away from Julie’s room, was Reggie. His door was wide open, unlike Julie who preferred to keep hers shut, with no urgency or desire for coveted privacy. The boy, soon to be young man with his eighteenth birthday less than a month away, was an open book. He wanted people to enter his life as freely as they allowed him to do so in theirs. His open bedroom door simply reflected that.

Just as Ray rose his fist to knock just outside the door frame, he stopped at the sound of a muffled-static-like voice.

“Yeah—yeah. I’m fine, great really,” Reggie assured the other person through the line. “The first week has been good. You don’t need to worry, Mom. It’s not your fault—Uh—okay—can we just talk about something else? Please?” An empty silence followed. Too long of a silence. Reggie tried to pick the conversation back up again. “Like how is Oregon?” He tried to sound upbeat, probably fooling his mother, but Ray recognized the fatigue of a burnout in Reggie’s voice. “The band? Oh…uh, we had a gig on Friday. It was really cool! We were the headliners for the evening and that hasn’t happened before! Luke, Julie, and Alex were just amazing. They killed it like always. And the food there was awesome too and— _oh_. Okay…You should get some sleep then…I love you too, Mom.”

The sound of Reggie’s cell phone thumping down on the desk signaled the end of the call.

Seizing his opportunity, Ray knocked on the doorframe. “Hey, just checking in before lights out,” he told Reggie.

The boy glanced up with a smile—not forced, but a genuine smile.

“Cool. I’m all good. Just need to finish reading this chapter of _The Catcher in the Rye_ , and then I’m heading off to bed.” Reggie picked up the book from his desk and cracked it open.

“Don’t stay up too late,” Ray warned, relieved to see Reggie was indeed _okay_. Even after a call with his mother.

“Got it! Have a good night, Ray.”

“You too, _mijo_.”

He reached to close Reggie’s door, leaving it a crack open before he continued on his way back down the hall—

A crash sounded from Julie’s room.

“ _Oh god_!” Julie yelped.

Without second thought, Ray swung open his daughter’s bedroom door, fear and adrenaline running through him.

Only to stop short once his eyes landed on the scene before him.

Laying haphazard on the floor by the window, sheer lilac curtains tangled up in his legs, was _Luke_.

The moment he realized he was caught, the boy froze on the floor. All attempts to untangle himself remained forgotten. “Hey Mr. Molina—"

“What are you doing here?” Ray demanded calmly, remaining rooted in Julie’s doorway.

Luke’s eyes darted between Julie and Ray, unsure of what to do. “Uh—”

Standing in the corner of the room, Julie hugged herself, guilt shinning in her eyes. “I told him to come here.”

“At _night_?” Ray could feel his blood pressure elevating.

“It’s not like that!” Julie was quick to defend. She stepped out further from the corner, edging more in front of Luke, who remained incapacity on the floor. “He and his mom—”

“Julie!” Luke hissed, tucking on the cuff of her sweatpants to get her to stop.

“—had another fight. So I told him to just come over and hang out to get his mind off of it—”

“ _At night?”_ Ray repeated. Oh, he was going to have to see his therapist again. He could handle his daughter’s friends slowly taking over his home, but his daughter sneaking in one of her said friends though a window at night was another level of parenting he wasn’t prepared for.

“Okay, maybe I didn’t think it through—” Julie confessed. “But please don’t kick him out!”

“Please?” Luke uttered from the floor, looking up at Ray with a mix of fear and miserableness. He felt a flash of pity for the boy, though the feeling was gone in seconds. 

“Get off the floor and go downstairs,” Ray told him, attempting to keep his cool. “I’ll drive you back home myself.”

Luke’s eyes widened. “I think I’ll walk—”

“ _Downstairs_.”

“Got it.”

* * *

The car ride was silent.

No radio. No conversation. Not even the sound of other passing cars.

Luke glared out the window, pouting and keeping his body turned away from the driver’s seat, and pressed towards the door.

Ray kept his eyes on the road.

The Patterson’s were not far from the Molina’s. A few good blocks away, a good twenty to thirty minute walk depending on traffic. Which explained how he got to Julie’s window so quickly.

Dropping off Luke was by no means out of Ray’s way or a long journey. Just an inconvenient task to perform at ten-fifteen on a school night.

There was also the fact he caught Luke in Julie’s room— _again_.

The first time could be labeled as an accident. But this time…

This time was clearly intentional, and who knew how long the boy had been planning on staying that night.

Once he turned on Eastend Ave, the Patterson’s street, Ray parked the car by the curb.

“Do your parents know you’re gone?”

“No.” Luke muttered, arms crossed over his chest. “I left through my window,” he added sheepishly.

“Then go.”

Luke’s head whipped to Ray, stunned. “ _What_?”

“Go.” Ray waved for him to leave.

Glancing back out the window, Luke frowned, confused. “My house is at the end of the road—”

“I know,” Ray interjected, “I’m not going to drop you off at your house with those big windows out front. Your parents will know you ran off.”

“Oh.” Luke blinked, not expecting this.

“And if you were caught, then your parents would take away privileges. Like the band,” Ray stressed. “And as much as you _should_ be held accountable for your actions, the band needs you. My daughter needs you—in the band.”

“So…” Luke looked between the door and Ray. Probably thinking this was some sort of cruel joke. “So… you’re just letting me go?”

“Yes. Against my better judgement, yes.”

“And you won’t tell my parents?” Luke asked, sounding small.

“I won’t if you don’t get out of this car in the next ten seconds.”

Luke shoved open the door and grabbed his backpack without another word—he must have finally understood the opportunity Ray had presented him, even if it did come as a shock.

“Thanks Mr. Molina,” Luke’s breath puffed in the chilly air, hands gripping the straps of his backpack for dear life, “you’re actually kind of a cool dude.”

“Get to your house, Luke,” Ray ordered. “Before I do drop you off out front.”

“Right,” Luke nodded, closing the door closed. He and Luke didn’t do heart-to-hearts, at least not like the other boys. Luke kept himself closed off, acted like he could handle the world on his own. Most seventeen year old’s believed they could take on all life had to throw at them, a belief farthest from the truth.

He’d been the same at that age.

It was then Ray saw his younger-self in him on a crippling level.

Luke waved once before running off down the street, disappearing into shrubbery of his parents’ yard a few moments later. Within minutes Luke would be back in his room, his parents none the wiser.

Ray pulled the car out of park and he made his way back home.

“The things I do for my daughter and her friends…” he mumbled with a shake of his head, a tired chuckle escaping him.

He was positive this moment would just be a bullet point in a long list grievances regarding his daughter and Luke.

But it’d be one he’d remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically this chapter was "Ray becomes the boys' surrogate father for a day" XD
> 
> In all honesty this was more of transition chapter that actually holds a lot of important moments. But we'll get back into more chaotic and sweet moments in the next chapter :)
> 
> SPANISH TIME!
> 
> caldo---> SOUP, technically broth, but a really big soup
> 
> I don't know about anyone else, but the first caldo of the autumn is always a big deal in my house and Sundays become caldo days.


	7. Restroom Confessionals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter was originally longer, but I decided to keep it like this. Plus I think Luke's POV will be better for the next chapter's events 👀
> 
> A quick general reminder; this is more of a family-friendship fic. Yes there will be plenty of Juke, Willex, etc (I love them both so much) but the main focus is family, and the band becoming a little family. Plus I want the relationships (especially Juke and Willex) to grow organically, that includes flub ups and mistakes from the characters as they mature and change. So in other words, don't expect either couple to be in an official romantic relationship any time soon--just enjoy the ride!
> 
> Typos will be fixed later! Enjoy :D

* * *

With Halloween a mere week away, the boys were going full force into Spooky Season.

Naturally, Julie received the brunt of their obsession.

Horror movies all day Saturday, from _Halloween_ to _Nightmare on Elm Street_ —the last of which traumatized all the boys. At two in the morning she found the three outside her door, begging her to let them sleep on the floor because they admitted wholeheartedly they were terrified of Freddy getting them in their sleep.

Then they binged all the _Halloweentown_ movies in one sitting, followed by _Hocus Pocus_ and Beetlejuice, the studio no longer reserved for rehearsing (which they _should_ be doing considering they were performing on Halloween at the Monster Mash Band Night) but a Halloween bonanza. Spiders hung from the ceiling, a death reaper in the corner, pumpkins _everywhere_.

Alex was apparently the crafty sort ( “ _It comes with the PK territory_ ,” he explained once, helping her bedazzle a leather jacket she thrifted, “ _there is a lot of DIY in church and craft fairs as fundraisers. I knew how to sew by the time I was six._ ”), carving pumpkins and painting them in his free time (how did he have free time? Julie could barely focus on the band and homework without loosing her mind) and set them up outside like they were a little family, each one representing someone in the band. It took her less than two seconds to know the glittery and rhinestone painted pumpkin was supposed to be her.

Halloween music—which there wasn’t much of to be honest—blasted through the studio when the boys were just hanging out, Julie swearing under her breath when she heard _Thriller_ for the fifteenth time in a day.

One could only listen to same Michael Jackson song over and over before losing their mind.

The only time she seemed to be relieved of boys’ constant Halloween obsession was at school.

Except that happened to not be the case any longer.

Twisting the knob of her lock, Julie opened her locker—

“ _Ah_!”

A white sheet was thrusted into her face, ghostly giggles filling the air.

Bouncing in the air, a little ghost jump scare hung in her locker, it animatronic giggle still filling the air.

Snickers came from further down the hall.

Her blood boiled—she knew _exactly_ who did this.

Ripping the ghost down from her locker, Julie slammed the door shut.

Whipping around, she marched down the hall to Luke’s locker, where all three boys were huddled together, acting like they hadn’t seen her at all.

Which was ridiculous because they were the one’s watching with rapt attention the entire time. Like a little pack of hyena’s waiting for their pray to fall. Except more like the hyena’s from _The Lion King_ , who’d barely accomplish anything because they’d topple over in laughter—like idiots.

Luke grinned at her, as though his charm would soothe the onslaught heading his way. “Hey, Jules—”

“This!” She waved the little ghost in the air. It’s little pink hair bow flopped to the side. “Is not funny! It scared the crap out of me!”

“Come on Julie,” Luke began, “it was just a jo—” She threw the ghost at his chest. “— _hey_!”

“Not. Funny,” she repeated, staring each one of them down.

“But it’s you!” Reggie cheered, bopping the ghost’s head. “Don’t you see the little bow?”

“I made that!” Alex added. “It came as a plain-old ghost, so I added the bow. I think it’s fun!”

“Not. Fun,” she stated plainly. “I get that you guys love Halloween, but I’m just not as into ‘Spooky Season.’” She threw up air quotes around the phrase. The number of notifications she received from the band’s twitter account of Luke’s non-stop tweeting about Spooky Season was starting to pile up. And that was just this _morning_.

The three deflated at the revelation.

“But…but Halloween is the best day of the year,” Reggie mumbled, eyes wide and sad. He acted like her words personally wounded him. “Think of the candy, Julie.”

“And the dressing up!” Alex added. “You can be anything you want to be for an entire day!”

“And the sick Halloween parties and concerts,” Luke gushed, “don’t you realize we are playing one of the biggest underground artists Halloween concerts ever! We have to get revved up for Halloween.”

His big puppy dog eyes blinked at her, a pout pulling down on his lips. Luke was really pulling out the big guns for this.

But Julie was stronger than his widest, most earnest gaze.

“I’m sorry,” she shrugged, “I just don’t like Halloween.” _Anymore_.

She use to like Halloween. When her mom was around. But the last two years just weren’t the same without her.

Not even her dad got into the Halloween spirit anymore, they simply waiting for November 2nd to roll around so they could go to the cemetery with Tia Victoria, and lay down the rosary and her mother’s favorite _pasteles_ on the headstone in remembrance.

“We’ll get you into the Halloween spirit then,” Luke declared. “If anyone is a pro on Halloween, it’s us!” He held his two hands out for a hi-five, Reggie and Alex slapping their hands down to his without missing a beat.

“It’s a nice thought, but no,” Julie slowly backed away from the boys.

They matched her pace, stepping forward.

“Come on!” Reggie coaxed, the guys still following her as she continued to step further and further down the hall, checking over her shoulder every few seconds to make sure she wouldn’t trip as she moved backwards. “We can go costume shopping this afternoon!”

“Yeah,” Alex bounced a little at the thought, “we still need to figure out what we are going to go as to the Monster Mash!”

“I was thinking ghosts,” Luke remarked, “since we’re Julie and the _Phantoms_ —”

“That’s a little too on the nose,” Alex argued. “Maybe skeletons—”

“No! That’s so boring!”

Taking advantage of their distraction, Julie booked it down the hall.

“ _Jules_!”

Sneakers skidded against the linoleum floor as the boys chased after her, taking a sharp left towards the science hall. They stumbled to keep up with her, their fellow classmates and peers only sparing a small glance in their direction. Lunch hour was upon them and paying attention to ‘Julie and the Phantoms’ running amuck in school had lost its luster ages ago. Julie didn’t blame them.

As she made it closer to the end of the hall, she spotted the one room she knew the boys would not dare follow her into.

_The girl’s restroom._

Pushing herself forward, Julie darted through the swinging door.

“ _No_!”

“Gah! Not the girl’s room!”

“This is an unfair advantage!” Luke shouted on the other side of the door. “This is a fowl!” She heard the stomp of his foot outside, the guys all mumbling in distress. “Eventually you’re going to have to come out Jules, and we are going to celebrate Spooky Season in all its glory!”

Huffing an exhausted laugh, Julie backed away from the door.

The guys were too polite and nice to even dare to try going into girl’s restroom at school. Specifically at school because if they were desperate and need to talk to Julie they entered the ladies room at venues no problem, ignoring the stares of other women, or worse, when they’d barge into the bathroom at home when Julie was getting ready, not caring she was in a bathrobe and brushing her teeth.

Yeah, the boys despite their occasional wholesomeness lacked all boundaries.

But at least she could rely on this escape.

The science hall restrooms were mostly deserted during lunch, the cafeteria on the opposite side of campus. This left Julie to herself, a relief.

As much as she loved the boys, their constant presence was beginning to be a bit much. Once Reggie moved in a couple of weeks back, it seemed the floodgates were opened. The boys were around almost twenty-four seven, finding any excuse to come over or spend the night, the three conjoined at the hip.

To make matters worse, her father didn’t seem to mind.

Once upon a time Ray Molina enforced ‘no boys after eight o’clock.’ Then somewhere along the way it become ‘no boys after ten’ then ‘no boys in the room at night’ and the guys could practically come and go as they pleased.

A break was needed.

Stepping further into the restroom, Julie checked the stalls, only finding one was closed all the way at the end of the row of stalls, but without any feet at the bottom.

Which meant someone decided to be stupid and lock the stall from the inside before crawling out. A dumb prank performed more often in middle school but still showing up in high school.

Relieved she seemed to be alone, Julie turned to the row of sinks and set her backpack on the edge. As she dug through her bag for the granola bar she packed and her literature reading (might as well get some work done while she was killing time, lord knows the boys would be on her the moment she left the restroom) she hummed, the tune something similar to Harry Style’s ‘Adore You’ (Alex had been playing the former One Directioners music non-stop the other day, his love for pop-rock seeming to grow more and more the longer he hung out with Willie).

Leaning back against the counter, she flipped open _Lord of the Flies_ to her bookmarked page. “ _Just let me adore you_ —” She sang quietly.

Only to realize the humming continued.

Just not _her_ humming.

Julie froze.

As though sensing being caught, the other humming stopped.

“Uh,” Julie looked to the stalls again, before find herself eyeing the last one warily, “is anyone in here?”

Silence passed without a word.

Then— _do do do doo_ —a cell phone notification pinged. From the stall.

“Damn cell phone,” a flustered, pitched voice grumbled.

Julie’s eyebrows jumped up, she quickly moving in front of the last stall. “ _Carrie_? Is that you?”

Perfectly maintained, brown knee high boots planted on the floor from where they were perched up. Feet set firmly together, she light shine of the leather dull under the bathroom florescent lights. Julie could picture Carrie Wilson sitting prim and proper in the bathroom stall—one she clearly wasn’t using for its intended purpose. “Some of us come here for privacy, Julie. Or has hanging out with those pea-brains deleted the term from your brain.”

Sighing, Julie rolled her eyes. It seemed every time they were in each other’s vicinity Carrie just had to insult the boys; there was no escaping it. “Why else do you think I’m here? To get privacy.”

“Hmm.” Carrie remained in the stall, not making a single move to get up. This left Julie staying down at the floor, speaking to a pair of boots. Leave it to Carrie to keep her distance, even when it was just them. “Apparently you haven’t lost all your sense.”

“Maybe I’m the one brain cell in the band,” Julie joked lightly.

A muffled snort came from the stall. “That would not be surprising.”

Checking her watch, Julie frowned. Lunch had barely started when she came running into the restroom. Carrie was here before her. And if anyone knew anything about Los Feliz High School, Carrie Wilson would never miss an opportunity to mingle and flounce her wealth and girl-band for any available audience.

Which meant something happened and Carrie was taking refuge in the least populated restroom on campus. The very same restroom Julie decided to hid in.

The universe liked to make her life difficult, huh?

Shuffling closer to the stall, Julie leaned against the sink directly across. With one jump, she hoisted herself on the counter, legs kicking in the air. She and Carrie might not have been friends anymore (the transition from middle school to high school crumbled part of their friendship, but Julie joining the Sunset Curve boys seemed to be the nail in the coffin) but Julie cared for her.

It was hard to not care for someone who was there through the good, the bad, and the ugly. Carrie and Flynn, while not fond of each other, put aside their differences when Julie’s mother died, and were there for her. More than she ever expected. That was something irreplaceable—loss created a bond, even if things weren’t the same anymore.

“If you don’t mind me asking why are you hiding out in here?” Julie knew it was a rather blunt question, but she learned early on to be blunt with Carrie or the girl would willingly trapeze into mind games to avoid talking about her feelings. “Because the Carrie I know wouldn’t be wasting valuable lunch time like this.”

“Why do you care?” Carrie bit out, her voice quivering from…held back tears? “We don’t hang out anymore.”

“Because I just do,” Julie hopped of the sink and sat down on the floor by the stall, “and I am always ready to listen.”

“Ugh,” Carrie groaned.

But she stood. Boots walked over to the stall door, she dropping down to sit on the floor. Julie could feel the girl’s sneer through the door, sitting on the floor way beneath Carrie Wilson, but she making an exception.

Julie still couldn’t see her face, yet this was better. At least she no longer felt like she speaking to air, able to see part of Carrie’s curled up form through the space between the door and the floor.

“Nick and I broke up.”

“ _What_?” Julie slammed her hand over her mouth, wincing. “I mean—no—yeah— _what_?” For someone who could bang out up to ten songs in one weekend, Julie sure wasn’t eloquent right now. “What do you mean you and Nick broke up? He’s a sweetheart.”

While maybe Nick and Carrie weren’t the obvious pairing in the world, they complimented each other. Looked good together, genuinely liked each other, more than probably most anticipated. Sure Carrie wasn’t always the nicest and Nick didn’t like _that_ about her, but he wasn’t perfect either, a little to flirty with others for Carrie’s comfort. At least that’s what Carrie confessed when she and Julie were still _somewhat_ friends.

“We broke up, Julie. What is there not to understand?” She shifted on the other side, arms wrapped tightly around her knees. “It was mutual.”

“Oh.” Julie blinked. “If it was mutual why are you…?”

“God, I forget how naïve you are sometimes.” Julie frowned at the comment. “I’ve dated him for two years. Even though it was a mutual break-up it still hurts.” A huff came from her, she shifting again. “While I like people talking about me, I don’t want to be around when everyone gossips about this.”

“I see,” Julie bit her lips together, “understandable.”

“Yes.”

Silence passed again, the two sitting tense against the door.

“So…why did you two break-up?”

“My god, you literally do not understand the term ‘privacy’!”

“I’m just trying to help!” Julie shot back, pushing away from the door. “You are in a handicap bathroom stall, possibly crying, and you and Nick broke up! I am just trying to be an open ear. Be someone who can listen”

“Well I didn’t ask you to be here, Julie,” Carrie snapped quietly. “But if you must know, it’s because I like someone else. And he does too.”

“Oh.”

“That’s all you have to say?” Carrie asked, offended. “I just told you I like someone else, and you just say ‘oh’?”

“I don’t know how you want me to react.” Julie turned to face the door, as though she could see Carrie’s face through the door. Except she was met with the door’s blue and gray speckled pattern. “This is new to me. I just always thought you and Nick would be together forever. Or at least through high school.”

“You are lame,” Carrie uttered, though without malice. “A hopeless romantic like you would think that.”

“Who said I was a hopeless romantic?” Julie felt herself getting ready for the defense.

“Everyone at every single one of your concerts,” Carrie deadpanned. “You and Luke just _ooze_ chemistry. It’s disgusting.”

While normally Carrie’s remark would upset Julie, she found herself chuckling. “That’s funny—Reggie says the same thing. But the word ‘ooze’ is—” Julie shuddered, “—kind of gross.”

“ _Ooze_ is a perfectly fine word if it is properly used. Which it was.”

“Whatever.” Julie shook her head. “Hey—you are starting to sound like your normal self.”

“Yeah. I guess.”

Carrie stood up, Julie following right after. The lock clicked, the stall door cracked open. Standing opposite, Carrie’s mascara was smudged from old tears, but her eyes did not look bloodshot. She unhooked her satchel from the back of the door, keeping eyes down.

“Excuse me,” she mumbled, bypassing Julie to mirrors and sinks. Reaching into her bag, she began to put on concealer and a fresh coat of mascara.

Sensing the moment was over, Julie returned back to her book, picking up where she left off.

Just as Carrie began to make her leave, she stopped short. “Julie—is your family going to the cemetery on November 2nd for Dia de los Muertos? For your mom?”

Looking up from her book, Julie blinked.

She didn’t think Carrie would remember.

“Yeah,” Julie answered, feeling a lump in her throat. They didn’t truly celebrate Dia de los Muertos, but they did acknowledge the day and spent the holiday remembering her mother and family they had lost. Tia Victoria more so at the helm of the excursion.

“Text me the time. Maybe I’ll be there,” she said, pleasant. “Oh and also, this—” she waved to the entire room, “never happened. Buh-bye!”

With that, she turned on her heel and marched out the door, head held high.

At the sinks, Julie sighed.

Carrie would be Carrie, but it was nice seeing her be kind for once. It reminded Julie of when they were younger.

Maybe her old friend was turning over a new leaf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I spent a lot of time attempting to figure out Julie's family's ethnicity based on actor casting and what was mentioned in the show. Because they kind of left it just 'Latinx' (which I understand why from a directing and writing POV) and as a latina, I know not all cultures within our community are the same (food and slang is one major example). I want to be respectful and somewhat accurate because I expect the same when others write about my community, but also geographically accurate as well. For example, California had a larger demographic of Mexican-Americans rather than Puerto Rican, while the East Coast has Puerto Rican than Mexican-American. Based on my digging, both Reyes and Ponce (Julie and Ray) are of Puerto Rican descent while the actress who plays Rose is more than likely of Mexican descent based off of the information available. So I decided to move forward and make Julie both! Her dad of Puerto Rican descent and her mother of Mexican descent, since it just made sense based on how the show presents their culture while still acknowledging the actors' background.
> 
> I know. That was a long explanation but I felt the need to explain my thought process behind this :)
> 
> Anyways, let me know what you think!


	8. Of Mothers and Not-Mothers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Typos will be fixed later (I am positive there might be some, lol.)!
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

Julie did not like Halloween.

Julie. Did. Not. Like. Halloween.

_JULIEDIDNOTLIKEHALLOWEEN._

“Okay, I think his brain is broken.”

Luke needed to reevaluate his crush on if she didn’t like Halloween. Because Halloween was important. Majorly important. It was the beginning of all the fun holidays!

“Maybe we just need to walk away and then his brain will work again,” Reggie suggested, “like turning a computer on and off.”

He knew Julie could sometimes be a buzzkill. Luke accepted that long ago, but there was nothing begging, pleading, and teasing couldn’t do to crack her.

But Julie not liking Halloween?

If she did not like Halloween, then how were they going to do couples costumes?

(Not now, of course, but in the future. This is present Luke thinking for future Luke. He doesn’t want him to get bummed out by this.)

“We need to fix this.”

“Okay, thank goodness he can speak,” Alex announced to the empty hall, them three the only ones around. “Dude, we can’t force Julie to like Halloween. That’s not how things work, okay?”

“We can do it,” Luke declared still looking at the restroom door like it was massive mountain he was about to climb. “Once she get’s out of there. No way am I going into the girl’s restroom.” His nose wrinkled. “That’s gross.”

“Oh I don’t know,” Reggie hummed, head tilted to the side, “I’ve been in there before. It’s not too bad. Always smells like perfume.”

Alex and Luke slowly turned to Reggie, sharing puzzled stares.

“Why were you the girl’s restroom?” Alex asked, eyebrows shooting up.

“A friend needed to talk,” Reggie answered, a small bounce to his shoulders. “We met here.”

“Who are you friends with that isn’t us?” Luke had known Reggie since middle school, eighth grade, the two sitting next to each other in band class in the woodwind section (the oboe and clarinet respectively). He was the only one to befriend Reggie when he moved to L.A. in middle of the school year, and subsequently introduce him to both Alex and Bobby.

Reggie didn’t have other friends. Not that the other guys wouldn’t mind him reaching out and having other friends, but…that just didn’t happen overnight.

Just as the boy opened his mouth to reply, the restroom door swung open—

Only for it be Carrie.

All the boys deflated.

“Oh look who it is? _Sunset Swerve_.”

“We’re Julie _and the Phantoms_ , now,” Luke corrected.

“Tell your friends!” Reggie cheered without missing a beat.

“ _Sunset Curve,_ ” he stressed the last word, knowing Carrie’s tendency to change their name in some weak attempt at mocking them, “ended the moment your cousin decided to betray us,” Luke told her, the hurt and anger of Bobby’s less than pleasing departure rising back in him. “How is good ol’ Bobby doing anyway?”

Alex reached for his shoulder. “Luke—”

He dipped out of his way, eyes locked on Carrie, daring her to answer.

Carrie would have answers. Since they were kids she and Bobby were attached at the hip, despite her being three years younger. For as long as Luke could remember, Carrie was around. Watching, longing, and maybe being a little nosey. But to know she knew about Bobby when everyone else was wondering what the hell happened…

“Is he still riding high on the songs _I_ wrote?” Luke bit out, arms crossed over his chest. Hands dug into his biceps, holding back as much as he could. “The songs that were going to be on _our_ demo?”

A manicured hand was held out in front of him. “Okay, stop mini-Hulk. No need to lose your cool,” she added with an eyeroll and flipping her hair over her shoulder. “First of all,” she held one digit up to the boys, “he goes by ‘Trevor’ now. Not ‘Bobby’.” She upped her count to two, waving to both Alex and Reggie. “Two—I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, I did not know he took your songs. All I knew was that he left for a weekend trip after graduation. Not that he was going to screw the band over.” She huffed, adding a third finger. “And three, I don’t know how he is doing. We might live in the same house, but I don’t have a monitor attached to him, m’kay?”

Her hand dropped back to her side, shoulders squared out.

The guys glanced at each other, Alex annoyed with him while Reggie just looked disappointed.

God, an annoyed Alex and disappointed Reggie were the right ingredients to make Luke feel like crap.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have lunch,” she strutted away, eyes darting between the three as she passed. “Bye boys.” She stopped short. “And Reggie.”

The three watched as she left down the hall until she disappeared around the corner.

Two hands smacked his shoulders.

“What the heck, dude!” Alex scolded. “Not okay! Not okay at all!”

“You can’t be giving Carrie a hard time,” Reggie mustered out, looking like a queasy mess. “She’s not Bobby.”

“Don’t you mean ‘ _Trevor’_?”

He was met with another two smacks on his shoulder.

“Cut it out, okay?” Alex pressed, looking down at Luke like a disgruntled parent. “Julie already has her own problems with Carrie, we don’t need to make it worse.”

“Ditto,” Reggie snapped his fingers into finger-guns, “what he said.”

“Fine,” Luke muttered, arms stilled crossed in defiance, “fine. I’ll stop—but I just can’t help it! It just comes out sometimes!”

“Dude, if you can somehow contain your lameness around Julie, then you can contain your idiocy and anger with Carrie.” Alex made the idea sound reasonable, but to Luke it sounded far from.

“Fine, fine,” Luke frowned down at the floor, “I’ll try. But that doesn’t mean I’ll succeed.”

Reggie perked. “Cool!”

“That’s all we ask,” Alex relented, relaxing a bit at Luke’s begrudging agreement.

Without looking, Alex and Reggie fist bumped.

Luke huffed, turning back to the closed Girl’s Restroom door. “You guys don’t think she’ll be in there all lunch, right?”

Neither of the boy’s had a response, both looking far from hopeful.

Cracking his knuckles, Luke stepped forward. “That’s it I’m going in—”

“Luke Patterson! What are you doing going into the Girl’s Restroom?”

He froze, hand on the door.

Turning to his left, Luke found Principal Lessa standing at the end of the hall, watching him like a hawk.

“I have to use the restroom?” He tried.

Face controlled in a eerie calmness only mothers and teachers possessed, Principal Lessa made her way over to him. Her heels clacking with each step, Luke felt his death sentence coming. “Last time I caught you by a Girl’s Restroom, you were ditching class to write a song.”

“The acoustics are great,” he tried again, a half-laugh forced out of him for good measure.

He looked to the guys for help.

They looked anywhere but at him.

_Damn_.

“My office,” Principal Lessa’s downturned, moving aside for Luke to lead the way—a way he knew all too familiar, “now.”

Shoulders slumped, he began to walk in the direction of the principal’s office. Once Principal Lessa was ahead of him, he spun around to Reggie and Alex.

“ _You guys suck_!” He whisper-shouted, turning away before either could say anything back.

He just hoped Principal Lessa wouldn’t call his mother.

* * *

“Take a seat.” She motioned to the chair opposite her desk.

The familiar chair stared back at Luke, mocking him.

“Mr. Patterson, take a seat or I’ll have your mother on the phone.”

Luke sat down before any other threats could be made. When Principal Lessa said she’d call his mother, she meant it. And had followed through on multiple occasions.

“I swear, I was just going into the Girl’s Restroom to check on Julie,” Luke blurted out before his principal could make any lewd accusations. “We kind of made her upset and I just wanted to make sure she was okay—”

“I’m sure you had pure intentions,” Principal Lessa rolled her eyes, “I was actually looking for you for reasons that have nothing to do with the Girl’s Restroom.” Picking up a file from the piled high stack on the corner of her desk, Principal Lessa’s downturned. “I wanted to talk to you about why you skipped out on your mandatory counseling session. Weren’t you and Miss Frances going to narrow down colleges? Apply for at least three for you to get the extra credit you need for English?”

_Crap_.

Miss Frances ratted him out. Again.

For being the school’s new student counselor, she sure wasn’t a fool. She was more on it about sessions and meetings than Mr. Kapekie, Luke’s old counselor who’d let him get away with just about anything. Even skipping out on class and hanging out in his office until the period was over.

(God, that man had the life. Three words: Retirement. In. Hawaii.)

Unfortunately, Miss Frances was nothing like Mr. Kapekie. Luke learned this the hard way when his grades began to slip just a month into school and suddenly he was put on pre-academic probation and placed on the ‘student in jeopardy of failing’ list—the list of students who needed to have weekly or daily check-ins on their progress.

“Was that today?” Luke’s jaw dropped as he gasped in disbelief, putting out his best dimwitted performance. It never worked on his mother or Ray, but maybe—just maybe—it’d work for Principal Lessa.

She raised an eyebrow. “Really, Mr. Patterson?”

Collapsing against the back of the chair, Luke huffed. “Principal L, I don’t need to go to college when I’m gonna be a rockstar. _Julie and the_ _Phantoms_ is really taking off. There is no point in applying.”

Lips pressed together in a firm line, she closed the file and set it aside. “If I recall correctly, about four years ago, one of my most promising students walked through that door,” she pointed to her office door behind him, “and told me he was going attend USC one day and get into their music program.”

Luke shrunk into his seat. “Whoever he was, he was a very dumb kid. Does he not realize how… _hard_ it is to get into a college like USC?”

Principal Lessa’s hands clasped together over her desk, she nodding in agreement. “Ahh, yes. But here’s the thing—he had great grades, great extra curriculars, even had an excellent band that almost had a record deal under their belt. And the cherry on top was he is musically gifted and has a passion for it no one can compete with.”

“Wow,” Luke exhaled, “sucks to be that guy.”

“Luke, we’re talking about you,” Principal Lessa deadpanned. “I don’t know what happened, but you were right on track to get into at least three of your top colleges then at some point last semester you just stopped caring.”

“Like I said before Principal L—what is the point? I gotta be focused on the band, get us where we are supposed to be. School won’t help me with that.”

_Sunset Curve_ almost had their big break.

Key word: almost.

But now it felt like they were back at square one. Begging for gigs, emailing and sending out fliers to every single person they knew, putting on performances whenever the opportunity presented itself.

He felt like he was living in _Groundhog Day_ , except not one day, but an entire year. All of his double-work in an effort to get the band seen and heard because the fact was _Julie and the Phantoms_ was going to be better than what _Sunset Curve_ could ever be.

“But school will give you time to explore your music, gain a better knowledge of your craft.”

“More than what you are giving me here?” He challenged. “Because I thought this was a performing arts program with a top-grade music department?”

His principal frowned at him. “Please do not recite the school brochure to me.”

“Just telling you what my parents and I were told when we decided I’d be going here.” He gave a shrug.

“The point I am trying to make Mr. Patterson is you are a bright young man—when you want to be,” she added a half-second later, “and you are throwing away an opportunity.”

“Or I am recognizing the flaw in the opportunity and am not taking it.” Even as the words came out of his mouth, he knew his statement was forced and weird. Like he was trying to make himself sound sure—even though he was the furthest thing for sure at the moment.

He just wanted to get out of this conversation.

Apparently she took pity on him, changing the track of their conversation. “Do your parents know you don’t want to apply for colleges?”

“Um…” He shook his head. Better to not say the word ‘no’ because then it’d be out there in the universe and knowing his mom, she’d find out. _Instantly_.

A tired sigh left the woman. “I thought they only approved of your interest in music if it got you into a good college?”

Luke face scrunched, puzzled; he didn’t tell Principal Lessa that.

“Your mother talks a lot during Book Club,” she answered the unsaid question.

“Do any of you actually talk about books?” Luke asked, his mother often ranting and raving about the latest happenings in her book club—more so the lives of its members.

Principal Lessa paused. Then—“No. No, we don’t.” She shook her head, a flash of embarrassment on her face. “But we aren’t here to talk about my book club, but about you. And not wasting this chance.”

There really was no getting through to this woman was there?

“I don’t—”

“USC Admissions emailed Ms. Harrison a reminder about Music Program auditions since several of our students audition every year. They’re in December and you have been automatically registered since you sent your early admissions application last month. Prior to you doubling down on _this_.” She motioned to all of him. “She forwarded both you and your parents the information, if USC hasn’t already emailed you.”

Luke felt his gut drop down to his feet.

“ _What_?”

No.

_No! No. No!_

This was bad. Really, really bad.

Because yes, he did get the email about auditions. He did know he was registered and the university wanted him to email back his desired audition time out of the few remaining timeslots available.

But he had zero intention of telling his parents. If they found out they’d see it as a guaranteed acceptance and then his mom would push for him to drop the band and ‘rockstar fantasy’ because he had a _real_ opportunity here.

Luke couldn’t face them. The disappointment. The look of confusion and anger from his mother when he’d tell her that he couldn’t do it. He just _couldn’t_. Going to college, at least right now, wasn’t for him.

His parents wouldn’t understand.

“I’m sure you and your parents have a lot to discuss.”

“Yup,” Luke uttered, feeling like he was having an out of body experience as panic washed over him.

Is this how Alex always felt? During anxiety attacks? Like he was slowly lifted out of his body and no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t get back down and into his own skin again?

Because if so, it felt like shit.

It would also explained way Alex was always butthurt and annoyed all the time.

Across from him, Principal Lessa remained unaware of the chaos rumbling inside of Luke.“So you’ll talk to your parents? Maybe reconsider this anti-college thing you got going on?”

“Yup,” he repeated, giving a vigorous nod.

Nodding only made his head hurt even more.

“Okay,” she seemed pleased with the turn of events, “it looks like we are done talking. And just in time for you to get to fifth period.” He didn’t bother glancing at the clock, the bell ringing through the halls. He had fifth period—he still had to go to school even though it felt like his world was tipping. “Have a good afternoon, Luke.”

In all honesty, Luke did not remember getting up from his seat and leaving the principal’s office.

He didn’t remember walking down the familiar walls to his locker, nor pulling out his backpack and jacket from its confines.

All he recalled was seeing Reggie, Alex, Flynn, and Julie at the end of hall.

And they were talking and laughing, unaware of Luke watching them from a distance. Lost in their own world where they were fine—and even if they weren’t fine, well things seemed to be looking up for just about everyone, but _him_. Reggie was finally getting the family he deserved with the Molina’s and Alex was super close to making things official with Willie, his family’s views be damned (then again they still didn’t know Alex was gay).

His best friends were happy—happier than either had been in awhile

His lame problems about his future, his parents, and his parents opinion about his future didn’t even compare.

So he shoved his sad and panicked feelings back into his chest and locked them away.

Running full speed ahead, Luke jumped on Reggie and Alex, slinging an arm around each of their necks. “Who wants to ditch fifth and go costume shopping?”

The whoops and cheers of his friends made everything else fade away.

* * *

Rachel, the Barren Van was in rare form that afternoon. Her engine rumbled all the way out of the school parking lot, down the road, and off into the freeway as Alex attempted to get them to a thrift store instead of a costume shop.

This was, of course, part one of operation “Get Julie Into Spooky Season.”

Their resident lead singer was a major thrifter and crafter, Luke suggesting they make their costumes for Halloween instead of buying them from any old pop-up holiday shop. He knew Julie wouldn’t be able to resist the idea of making her own costume, and maybe—just maybe—she’d see the positive in the spookiest day around.

He was confident this would work. If only they could agree on a band costume.

Hands braced on the wheel, Alex spared Reggie a glance in the rearview mirror before stubbornly dropping his focus back to the road. “I’m telling you ghosts is too on the nose!”

“But it would be fun!” Reggie argued from the back seat, wedged between Flynn and Julie. “No-no it would be… _punny_.”

Flynn snickered at the terrible joke, while Julie remained mildly amused.

Luke wondered how many puns she’d been subjected to since Reggie moved in. Probably at least a dozen a day. Or more. Reggie did love his puns.

“Yeah, we perform with sheets on our heads?” Luke, for once, was taking Alex’s side on this argument. “Then no one would see our faces.”

“You guys do have cute faces,” Flynn chimed in, “and they are half the money makers on my Etsy shop.” To prove her point, she whipped out her phone and opened her Etsy shop. “My graphic stickers of you three have blown t-shirt sales out of the water. People really want y’all on their hyrdros and laptops.”

Reggie’s eyes lit up, complete awe consuming him. “Somewhere, out in the world, I’m on a _hydroflask_.” Eyes welling, he sniffed. “This might be the happiest day of my life.”

Alex’s brows furrowed. “Is that now the equivalent to being on a lunch box? Like how superheroes are on lunchboxes? Are we like…” his voice quivered, in disbelief, “…like superheroes? Like superhero famous?”

Luke blinked, stunned by their overwhelmed reactions. They were never like this with _Sunset Curve_ (then again they had t-shirts that fell apart upon contact with water, while Flynn had a full-fledged Etsy store and was developing a legit website for the band, complete with merch), yet with _Julie and the Phantoms_ Reggie and Alex were acting like it was the first time all over again.

“You two need to get out more,” Flynn pursed her lips, embarrassed for them, “and no, you are not superhero famous. You guys are like… mid-tier YouTube level famous.”

“But still famous!” Reggie squealed, jumping forward for high-fives from the guys.

Luke slapped his hand down to Reggie’s, grinning. Alex on the other hand—

“Can’t you see I’m driving _!”_

“Okay,” Julie peered forward, grabbing Reggie’s shoulders and bringing him back down to his spot, “let’s leave our driver—”

“I’m not your chauffeur!”

“—our driving friend,” Julie corrected sweetly, “alone while he is at the wheel. We don’t want him to lose focus and crash—”

“Did you really have to say it like that?” Alex whined, flicking on his blinker all glum. “Saying it is speaking it into existence and—”

Luke was having enough, mostly because he was the one who had to deal with Alex’s frustrations at the wheel, sitting at the passenger seat with full view of his granny pace driving and terrifying _Speed Racer_ merges. “How about we just don’t talk to Alex when he drives?”

Murmurs of agreement sounded in the van.

“But I like being part of the conversation,” Alex mumbled, effectively saddened by the decision.

Well, beggars couldn’t be choosers. And knowing Alex, he wasn’t going to listen to the haste rule.

In the backseat, Flynn continued to scroll through her phone. “It looks like a video of your performance at Flannigan’s has been traveling all over Insta. And people love you guys.”

“We’re loved,” Reggie gushed. Squeezed together, he and Julie looked at Flynn’s phone in growing excitement.

“I don’t know why,” Alex began to get off the freeway, “if we were _so_ loveable, why would you purposely want to exclude a friend, a bandmate, a brother from the conversation—”

“Oh my god,” Luke groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “If you are going to complain, I can drive—”

“ _No!”_ The entire van roared.

“Ouch, okay. Tell me how you really feel,” he quipped. He knew he wasn’t the best driver, but he didn’t think he was _that_ bad. He got from one point to the other in one piece; how was that bad driving?

“No need, we’re here!” Alex announced as he pulled into the parking lot. He was quick to find a parking spot a few spaces away from their desired shop. “Okay, before we go in quick rules—”

The group groaned.

Except for Julie. “Sure Alex, tell us your rules,” she encouraged, ready to listen.

“One—do not get anything that smells even the slightest, okay?” he listed off first. “It took weeks for the van to smell like this,” he inhaled deeply, eyes closed as he embraced the air, “a distinct pine and oak scent with a dash of lavender. I want it to stay this way.”

Luke sniffed a little. Huh. He never caught the lavender until now. Go figure.

“Two—” Alex sat up straight, eyeing both Reggie and Julie in the back, “we cannot purchase anything until we agree on a costume. That means no big pile of leather jackets thinking you are going to wear them all, Reggie, when you are still going to rotate the same three. And no huge pile of tie-dye and dresses Julie when you haven’t even finished your other clothing projects. We are here for a reason, okay?”

The two slumped in defeat, called out almost effortlessly.

“And three—”

“Have fun?” Flynn tried, a hyped up smile on her face.

“Okay, okay, okay yeah whatever, ‘have fun’—” Alex nodded, perhaps realizing he was being a bit of downer at the moment, “—but also—”

“Great! Thanks, Mom!” Flynn called out, pushing open the door and pulling Julie out. The two girl’s ran to the thrift shop, Flynn more so dragging a less than enthused Julie.

“I’m not your mom!” Alex shouted back, but the girls were already out of earshot.

“Eh,” Luke patted his friend’s arm pitifully, “you kind of are. Thanks for the ride, Mom!” He sung open the door and hopped out of the car. “Aren’t you coming, Reg?”

Reggie began sliding along the backseat bench to the door, stopping before he climbed out. “Sorry about them… _Mom_.”

Horror shined in Alex’s eyes. “Not you too, Reggie!”

He jumped out of the van and shut the door, Luke doing the same with the passenger side. “See you in there!”

The two began to make their way towards the shop, Alex’s huffing and the slamming of his driver’s side door echoing as he hurried to catch up.

Luke chuckled, shaking his head. “He needs to lighten up a little.”

Reggie seemed to agree, though there was flash of reluctance in his eyes. “He might just be like that because Willie is coming to the Monster Mash on Saturday.”

“He is?” That explained _so_ much!

“Yup,” Reggie grinned, cheesed up with excitement. “Anything that has to do with Monster Mash has been making his brain go all kooky.”

“Cuckoo Bananas for Willie,” he remarked, imagining just how sweet it would be to see Alex light-up as he got offstage to see Willie-the-Almost-Boyfriend. “I bet you twenty bucks Willie will ask to make things official with Alex during Monster Mash.”

“I say he won’t ask, but Alex will—after Monster Mash,” Reggie countered, confident in his prediction.

“Oh, you are so on, dude.”

The two shook on it just as Alex came to a jogging stop beside them.

He eyed their conjoined hands, the boys dropping it two seconds later. “What were you two doing?”

“Nothing,” Luke shrugged, nonchalant.

“Yup, _nada_ ,” Reggie added, playing with his backpack straps. “I learned that one from Ray.”

“Not the mandatory Spanish you had to take Freshman year?” Alex asked, raising a concerned eyebrow. “Because I’m pretty sure you are taught ‘nada’ on the second day of class.”

“I switched to French my second semester,” Reggie corrected, “to hang out with Luke.” He beamed proudly at the information.

They came up to the shop, Luke walking ahead to get the door.

“But you should still know the basics,” Alex argued as they entered the small thrift shop. “I mean, ‘nada’ falls into a subcategory of English slang.”

“That may be the case, but I only keep what I need up here.” Reggie tapped his temple. “Everything else just disappears.”

Luke refrained a snort, following in after them. “Oh, we know that buddy.”

“Guys, guys, guys,” Flynn called out upon seeing them. “Over here!”

She waved them to come towards her, all the way to the far right aisle. Once they rounded the corner, they discovered it was just her. Julie wasn’t anywhere to be found.

“Where’s Jules?” Luke asked, almost diving between the racks to see if she was hiding between the thick hoards of clothing.

“Trying on an outfit I put together—but that’s not the point,” she dropped her voice lower, “I know you guys are trying to get her into the Halloween spirit.”

“Really?” Reggie asked, surprised. “How did you know?”

“The whole school knows,” Flynn told him point-blank. “You guys weren’t exactly quiet when you were trying to force Spooky Season down her throat.”

All three winced, sharing guilty looks. None of them wanted to embarrass Julie, but it seemed their efforts caused exactly just that.

Catching their expressions, Flynn sighed dramatically, head rolling to the side. “My point is to not make you guys feel bad, but to maybe _help_ you.”

“Help how?” Alex asked. “She doesn’t like Halloween and probably won’t now.”

“She _does_ like Halloween,” Flynn stated plainly before anymore moping could happened. “In fact, all the Molina’s adore Halloween. They’d throw a huge Halloween party every year for the neighborhood. There was candy, live music, pumpkin carving, and so much more.”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ here,” Reggie interjected, a concerned pinched between his brows.

“Julie’s mom put it on every year, right?” Luke asked, the pieces falling into place. He knew there was always a massive Halloween party a few streets away from his house, but his parents were never big Halloween people. They liked it enough to decorate a little and take him out trick-or-treating, but not to extent of attending any Halloween parties or festivities.

“Bingo,” Flynn declared, melancholy resting over her. “Rose knew how to throw a good party and Halloween hasn’t been the same since. None of the holidays have been the same, really. And to make things hurt more, her family visits Rose’s grave a few days later for Dia de Los Muertos.” She met their gazes head on, both sad and tired by the facts she laid down. “So this time of year is a lot for her. And I know you guys are trying your best, but please be gentle with her.”

“We are the gentlest!” Luke argued, appalled by the accusation. “We are so gentle, we are like feathers!”

“Yeah that,” Flynn motioned to him from head to toe, “was not gentle. That was like hyper-aggressive puppy who’d be ready to jump me in ten-seconds flat. We need baby kittens.” She held her hands to her heart, near begging. “I need baby kitten level energy from all of you. Baby Kittens who nap. A lot.”

Reggie’s face scrunched. “That’s…hard. I’m not a cat person.”

Flynn huffed, rolling her eyes. “Just try. At least when you guys are trying to get her into the Spooky Season.”

The boys nodded in agreement, to be ‘gentle, like baby kittens’ when Julie came out of the changing room on the other side of aisle.

She was dressed in a poufy black and red sequenced mess, the shin length skirt bouncing with every step she made. To make things worse, she frowned at Flynn, stating, “It fits.”

“Perfect!” Her friend squealed, clapping her hands together. She reached into the backet she had on the floor and dropped a top hat on Julie’s head, followed by a black coat tail jacket. “Ta da!”

The boys stared. No one knew what to say.

“What…what is she supposed to be?” Alex asked, titling his head to the side.

“She is going to be a vampire!” Flynn announced, proud of herself. “And you, Alex, are going to be a mummy, Reggie will be a werewolf, and Luke will be the Phantom of the Opera! Do you guys see where I am going with this?” She grinned, bursting with excitement.

The guys shared confused glances. Luke was completely lost. “No—it just sounds like we are different things.”

“It’s the costumes from the iconic _Backstreet Boy_ s’ music video ‘Everybody, Backstreets Back’!” Flynn watched the three with growing alarm. “Do…do you guys not know the _Backstreet Boys_?”

Luke scoffed; did she think they lived under a rock? “We know who the _Backstreet Boy_ s are, but we aren’t going to dress up as them! Aren’t there like, I don’t know, _five_ of them?” He motioned to his bandmates. “There are only four of us!”

Flynn waved the notion away. “Details. Just little details.” She wrapped an arm around Julie’s shoulder. “The point is people will immediately get where you got your inspiration, especially with this girl’s hair and blondie over there.” She nodded to Alex. “Plus you do a little cover of the song since it is a Halloween song, and then bam you guys go viral again. All thanks to your social media connoisseur, merch guru, and now costume designer.” She flipped her braids over her shoulder. “Now are there any objections?”

Neither Alex or Reggie seemed too keen on the idea nor did they seem to object.

“Actually the more I wear the dress, the more it grows on me,” Julie confessed, spinning a little in front of the wall of mirrors beside them. “Being vampire could be fun! Put my own spin on it.”

Luke’s heart leapt into a flurry of dancing.

She was getting into Halloween again, even if it was just a little excitement about a costume. The sentiment was still there; not all hope was lost!

“Great! Let’s do it!” Luke cried out, dashing for another aisle before the guys could argue otherwise. “Gotta find a suit jacket I can tear the sleeves off of!”

“Luke, do you even know your suit measurements?” Alex called out, hurrying after him. His sneakers skidded on the linoleum floor, struggling to catch up with Luke. For someone who was almost an entire head taller than him, Alex sure did not know how to keep up. “If not, I can find a measuring tape—”

“I’m fine, Mom!”

“ _I’m not your mom!”_

* * *

He tried to sneak into the house quietly.

It was half past eight. His parents would still be awake in the living room, his mom working on her knitting and his dad catching up on his shows. Due to the structure of the house, he’d have to walk past the living room to get to his room. An unfortunate fact.

In all honesty, it was impossible to sneak through, even though Luke liked to hope against the truth of reality.

He barely shut the door when—

“Luke, is that you?” his mom called from the kitchen. The sound of dishes running told him he missed dinner. Again. She probably wasn’t too happy to add another tally to his missed dinners. “ Have you eaten? I made lasagna.”

He already ate at the Molina’s, but he wasn’t going to tell his mother that. “Sure. I’ll have lasagna.” He dropped his backpack on the entryway bench and kicked off his shoes, tucking them under.

Rounding the corner into the living room, he saw straight through into the kitchen. His mother looked tired but calm, taking her time washing the dishes. She once joked it was her therapy, getting the grime out of the pots and pans allowing her to release any anger or frustration she gathered through out the day. She scrub, then let the suds, murky water, and her worries go down the drain.

It’s kind of why Luke found washing dishes soothing too. He looked the task the same way his mother did, as a moment to release all his bottled up emotion; they were alike in that way.

“Where’s Dad?” he asked, grabbing a plate from the cabinet.

“It’s Tuesday. Bowling Night, remember?” she reminded him. She set down her sponge and turned to face him. “Or have the days blurred together for you? Since you never come home anymore, unless it is late.”

Ignoring her piercing stare, Luke picked the spatula off the counter and dig it into the glass pan. “It’s just been a long day. The band and I went costume shopping.”

His mother hummed—the ‘I-am-not-interested-but-I’ll-still-listen’ hum—and went back to her dishes. “Really? With what money? Last time I checked you haven’t done chores around here for some time, hence no allowance.”

“I busk,” Luke defended before shoving a mouthful of cold lasagna into his mouth.

He wasn’t about to tell her Dad was leaving money on his bedside every other morning with a note to ‘be safe and have fun.’ She’d have a field day with both of them.

The sponge dropped back into water. She whirled around to him, arms crossed over her chest and jaw tight. “Luke Mitchell Patterson, what have I told you about busking at the pier?”

“I’m completely safe, Mom!” Luke said through a mouthful. He swallowed down his food, leaning back against the counter. “There are people everywhere and I get awesome tips from tourist. Plus the band and I split between us what we make at gigs—”

“Gigs?” she repeated, eyebrows jumping into her hairline. “You never told me you were playing gigs. Where are you even going?”

“Hollywood, Downtown L.A., Orange County area—”

“You went to _Orange County_? That’s almost two hours away and you never thought to say anything?” She blinked, stunned by this development. Luke refrained an eyeroll; she was exaggerating how far they actually traveled. “And _where_ in Hollywood and Downtown L.A.? Are you even old enough to get into some of those clubs—”

“Mom, I told you—I’m fine and the band is fine.” He shifted away, moving to sit at the dinner table rather than be around her. “We double check all the venues. We almost always have adult supervision. We aren’t stupid.”

“Well whatever you have planned with your friends and your little band needs to be put on hold after this week,” she told him, leaving no room for argument. “Your music program auditions are just a little over a month away and all attention and focus needs to be on that. Not this idea you and your friends are going to get some big break.”

Luke stilled, food half shoved in his mouth. He dropped his fork down, meeting his mother with just as much stubbornness as her. “But we are! Agents and labels want to talk to us! We have gone viral multiple times! _Julie and the Phantoms_ is going to be big, believe me, Mom.”

A aggravated sigh escaped her, she coming over to the table, standing taller over him. “Luke, sweetheart, please believe whatever you want to believe. I know you are talented and so are your friends. But you need to be realistic. Have a back-up plan.” A small warm hand rested on his shoulder, she giving a small squeeze. A gesture of comfort, but Luke felt the distance grow between them in an instant. “If you have a college degree then at least you’ll have an education and more opportunities. Please look at it that way.”

Realizing he wasn’t going to win this argument, Luke nodded once. “Okay. I guess I can cut down hours with the band. Focus on my audition piece.”

“That’s all I ask.” His mother pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “And no more busking,” she warned for good measure. Ruffling his hair, she looked down at him, troubled. “One day you’ll thank me.”

Once she finished her dishes, she left for the living room, resuming her forgotten knitting.

“Oh honey, do you remember what size Alex is? He’s grown taller since the last Christmas sweater I made for him, want to make sure this fits him. And Julie too. I found this lovely purple yarn that would look darling on her.”

Luke’s shoulders slumped.

This was why staying mad at his mom was nearly impossible. Especially when she did stuff like this, making his friends yearly Christmas sweaters.

“Um, I’ll text them Mom and let you know,” he answered, poking absently at his food.

“Thank you!”

Luke ate the remainder of his second dinner alone, wishing his growing dread would vanish into thin air.

(It wouldn’t.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: USC doesn't have early admissions. I made that up for the sake of this fic, but A LOT of universities, especially those with intensive performing arts programs DO have early admissions to accommodate for auditions for both program admittance and scholarships (speaking from experience). 
> 
> If y'all haven't seen the iconic Backstreet Boys 'Everybody' music video, go watch it! Perfect for Spooky Season!
> 
> Also the JATP insta posted a fun little thing of character astrology signs a few days back, and of course, I am Ray 😂 I think this fic alone justifies that, bahahaha.
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are always appreciated :)


	9. It Happened on a Wednesday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A long awaited chapter. One many of you have been anticipating/dreading/anxiously waiting for.
> 
> All typos are mine and will be fixed later.

* * *

Mornings in the Bennet household were Alex’s favorite time of the day.

The rush of responsibilities had yet to crash down, the family more focused on simply being with each other and making breakfast.

Whole-grain pancakes with smiley faces and raspberry eyes and organic maple syrup to drown them to death. Hash browns crispy and finely chopped by his mother’s own skilled hand. Freshly squeezed orange juice and perfectly cut fruit on the side, along with locally sourced honey sitting on the center table.

Cereal was banished as a breakfast food in Lydia Bennet’s kitchen. She wanted her children to eat real food, not processed sugar or empty grains.

Alex believed if she didn’t become a mother and pastor’s wife, Lydia would live a very different existence. In fact most balked when she told them she was a pastor’s wife. Her blue and pink highlighted shoulder dark brown hair twisted into French braid with tiny paper blossoms adorned on every other notch, and her loose, brightly patterned dresses often branded her a ‘hippie’—but his mother didn’t care. She liked how she dressed and often encouraged both Alex and Charlotte to dress themselves how they saw fit.

This meant his sister was dressed as a fairy-cowboy-princess for almost three weeks straight, his mother even going out of her way to pick up multiples of the three costume combination to make her happy.

That’s what Lydia Bennet was all about; making her children happy.

His dad, Samuel Bennet, on the other hand was—

“I need to call the kettle corn guy—what’s his name?” his dad announced upon entering the kitchen.

“Thomas Ackerson,” his mother supplied without looking up from the lunch box she was putting together for Charlie. “We rent the kettle corn machine from him every year. I have it in the binder in your desk at the church.”

“Right, right, right,” his father muttered, graying ashy blonde hair sticking up in every which way. He fixed his button down shirt began looking for his suede brown jacket—the same one sitting in the open chair beside Alex. “I feel like Halloween snuck up on us this year. I distinctly remember we had more time to put together the Harvest Festival in years previous. Now we are less than two days away and I don’t know where the kettle corn machine is!”

“I am positive Thomas has it set aside for you,” his mother told him patiently. “And it is like this every year.” She turned to him, pressing a quick kiss on his cheek and pushing him along to sit at the table. “Now I’ll serve you breakfast.”

“I don’t have time—”

“You do have time,” his mother shot back, daring his dad to say otherwise.

Samuel sat down between his two children, Alex tensing ever so slightly. His dad was none the wiser, ruffing up Alex’s hair and pressing a kiss to the top of Charlie’s head. “How are my favorite kiddos doing?”

“ _Great_!” Charlie announced, mouthful of pancake and tiara flopping into her eyes.

Samuel fixed the tiara without missing a beat. He then looked expectantly at Alex.

“Good,” he said plainly. He shoved a mouth full of food into his mouth. If he kept on eating then his dad couldn’t talk to him right?

“Good, good,” his dad nodded. A plate of pancakes with the same smiley face as Alex’s and Charlie’s was place before him, Lydia disappearing back to the kitchen counter. “How’s the band? You guys almost ready for Monster Mash?” his dad asked, genuinely curious.

“Yeah, yeah,” Alex answered, swallowing down his pancakes. “We’ve been rehearsing all week. The band sounds awesome. We’re really excited.”

“Maybe if the Harvest Festival finishes up early, mom and I can stop by. We haven’t been to one of your live shows in ages.”

Alex’s face flushed. “Oh, Dad you guys don’t have to—”

“Honey, that’s a brilliant idea!” His mother appeared over his shoulder, filling up everyone’s orange juice before taking her own seat on the other side of Alex. “It’d be fun! Admission is at the door right?”

“Yeah, but I can save you guys tickets—we get comps for family and friends,” Alex explained, hesitant on the idea. “You would just pick up at the box office set out front.”

“Your dad has only ever heard the band when you guys were still _Sunset Curve_ ,” his mother continued to chat, a new vibrancy to her at the thought of the performance. “Honey, Julie has a heavenly voice.”

“Oh I believe it.” His dad’s elbow connected with Alex’s giving a little nudge. “I expect a girl as sweet as her to be blessed with such talent.”

“Yeah…” Alex drawled out, knowing exactly what his father was doing—he did this every single time Julie was brought up, “…Julie’s great. But ya know, she’d not really my type.” Major understatement. “Plus she and Luke kinda…” he waved his hands up in the air, “have a thing.”

His father deflated. He patted Alex’s shoulder comfortingly. “Awe, I’m sorry, son. But don’t worry, the right girl will come along and you’ll win her own in an instant.”

The stir in Alex’s stomach increased.

Maybe this was the moment.

Maybe right now was the _right now_ he had been waiting for.

Maybe…

“Thanks Dad, but actually I’m—”

Orange juice spilled across table.

Everyone, except Charlie, leapt up in a flurry to clean the mess.

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry everyone,” his mother apologized, mopping up the mess with stray kitchen towel just as Alex came back with a sponge and his dad holding out a wad of paper towels. “I’m such a clutz today. I spilled the coffee this morning, and now this.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” his dad insisted, grabbing his jacket from the chair. “Accidents happen.” He checked his watch, huffing. “I actually need to get going. I have a staff meeting about vendors.” Samuel weaved his way out of the kitchen, pressing kisses to the top of everyone’s head on his way out. “Love you all!”

“Love you too!” The three remained Bennet’s chorused, almost like muscle memory.

No one ever left home without saying ‘I love you’—even if they were upset. It was just a Bennet household rule.

“Alex, sweetie, can you help Charlie get ready for school real quick?” his mother asked, wringing out the orange juice soaked towel in the sink. “I can handle this mess.”

“Sure.” Alex was quick to help, Charlie leaping into his arms like a monkey. He got a mouthful of blonde hair, spitting it out as fast as he could. Charlie desperately needed a haircut, but she wanted her hair long like Rapunzel.

And of course, his mother didn’t argue.

* * *

Operation Spooky Season—a way better name than “Operation Get Julie to Like Spooky Season” Luke insisted they call it—was going better than they planned.

Julie was actually really into making the costumes and allowed some—not Reggie’s ten hour long playlist, but _some_ —Halloween music to be played as they worked.

In Alex’s opinion, that was a win of itself. Probably not the level either Reggie or Luke were hoping for, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. They could not make Julie a Halloween fanatic with the snap of their fingers. It was just not possible.

But at least they were all taking Flynn’s advice to heart by acting more like ‘baby kittens’ than ‘energetic puppies.’ Reggie and Luke even offered to go pick up more fabric and glitter, realizing maybe they needed to give Julie more space after hanging out with her all morning.

“Do you think they’re okay? They've been gone for a while,” Julie asked as she watched the two boys hurry over to the van, arguing over who’d be driving. Or rather Luke begging to drive while Reggie firmly kept the van keys in his pocket and away from their bemoaning friend.

“They’re be fine,” Alex assured her, threading his needle through the ripped seam on side of the suit jacket. Luke had been a little too enthusiastic when they started working on their costumes, cutting his suit sleeves off haphazardly. Now Alex was left trying to mend the shreds to prevent the fabric from fraying. “If anything they’ll get sidetracked while shopping and we’ll be able to get more done.”

Julie laughed, a light returning to her eyes. “That is a very true statement. I think we’ll be able to finish up both Luke’s and Reggie’s by the time they come back, and then they’ll distracted enough by their finished costumes for us to focus on ours.”

“Exactly,” Alex nodded wholeheartedly in agreement, “they can be a bit much sometimes. We all can.”

A sigh escaped her, a little bit of relief washing over. She seemed less tense than she did seconds earlier. “Don’t take this the wrong way…but sometimes I just need a break.”

“A break from…?”

“You guys,” she said, clearly feeling guilty. “Don’t get me wrong, I love all of you. I really do, but sometimes with all of you here, all the time, it can be a lot.”

A snort bubbled out of him, Alex shrinking in on himself at the sound. He didn’t want to sound insensitive, but at the same time it was like his own thoughts and concerned were echoed back at him. “Don’t feel guilty, Julie. I need breaks from the guys too. Even you sometimes,” he added.

Julie’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?” She pointed to herself; she probably found herself to be the least annoying and problematic in their band and friend group. But she was wrong. “You get tired of _me_?”

“If we are being honest here…” He hesitated. His next words would broach into a topic she shied away from like wildfire. “It is more so I’m tired of you and Luke. It’s a combination.” He paused, then remembered Reggie wasn’t there, and proceeded. “It’s the Juke of it all that annoys me.”

“Not you too.” She groaned and fell back against the couch.

“As much as I love you two, watching you and Luke dance around each other is…lame. And stupid.” His plain remark jabbed her, Julie’s eyes widening behind her reading glasses with each passing millisecond. For a fleeting moment he was afraid her eyes would bulge right out of their sockets. “I mean, I get it. Why you two haven’t…ya know, made it official. Or tried dating—”

“Let’s change the subject!” Julie announced, loud and panicked. “Like—like how are you and Willie!”

“Uh—” Heat surged up from his gut to his face at a furious speed. “Willie and I? Uh—were okay. Fine really. He’s coming to Monster Mash and we’ve hung out a few times,” he sputtered out, hoping he provided enough information to steer the conversation back to where it began—on Luke and Julie, and Julie needing space.

Not him and Willie. And how things were actually pretty wonderful and fantastic with Willie.

Because once Alex started talking about Willie, he really couldn’t stop talking about Willie.

(Bright neon lights went off in his mind—‘ _BECAUSE YOU ARE HEAD OVER HEELS DUFUS._ ’)

“Oh really?” Julie’s eyebrows wiggled up and down. “What did you guys do or go on your dates?”

“They are hang outs!” Alex corrected. “Not—not… _dates_.” He stared down hard at the coffee table.

He and Willie did not go out on dates. Because if they went out on dates then that made Willie his boyfriend. Right? And if Willie was his boyfriend, that meant Willie had to feel the same way and there was no way Willie could have felt as intensely for him as Alex did. Right? Because that would be crazy—

(Neon lights flickered in bright pink—‘ _CRAZY AWESOME’_.)

“They are so dates!”

“No!” Alex sat up, unable to hide in his slump any longer. “No they aren’t!”

“Oh _really_?” Julie challenged. “Then what do you call going to the arcade?”

“Hanging out at the arcade,” Alex didn’t see how it was a date—they were just hanging out. Playing games, like skeeball, and sharing an artichoke and chicken pizza with lactose-free cheese. He taught Alex how to make a perfect score on basketball and to properly throw a ball.

He could clearly remember Willie’s warm hands on his, adjusting his hands to balance the ball properly. For a brief moment Alex thought he passed out and was living in a dream. One where Willie’s shy smile was all that mattered in the world.

“Didn’t he win you a prize?” Julie reminded him all too sweetly. Hands clasped under her chin, she leaned closer, vibrating with excitement. “Like that massive teddy bear you named ‘Rocky’ because his favorite sports movie is _Rocky_?”

Both whipped their heads to the corner of the room—dubbed Alex’s corner eons ago—where an off-brown, giant teddy bear, nearly the size of Julie, sat in the junk sale acquired pink armchair.

“Rocky is a common teddy bear name!”

“No, it’s not!”

Huffing, Alex shot up from his spot, using his height to his advantage. “Then what do you call you and Luke going out for your weekly fro-yo?”

She stood up, arms crossed over her chest, meeting him toe to toe. “Band meetings.”

“Really? Without Reggie and I?” A gasped, clutching his chest. “That hurts.”

“Then writing meetings!” Her lips pursed, still keeping her defiant stance on her own ‘not-dates.’ “We do talk about the band when we get fro-yo.”

“Because that’s you and Luke,” Alex argued, “when are you two _not_ talking about the band?”

Her mouth snapped shut. Julie didn’t have an argument for _that_ fact.

Now that he had her pegged, he knew he had to ask the burning question on all their friends’ minds. But as gently as possible; Julie could get emotional and he wasn’t too sure he could handle tears of any kind. He’d panic. “What did happen with you and Luke this past summer—”

“ _Nothing happened_!”

From wide open studio doors, Luke came marching in, arms laden with reusable canvas bags. His mouth and brows twisted down, a glared directed to Alex.

Ah yes, the boy who cried ‘Nothing happened!’ made his return in one piece.

Behind him, Reggie followed, carrying large rolls of dull and glittering fabric.

“Hey Julie! Hey Alex!” Reggie’s cheery disposition lightened the room, Luke’s eyes of gloom and doom already forgotten in an instant. With less than poised arms, he dropped the fabric on the couch and plopped down right after. There he laid in a mess of fabric with little intention to move or get up. “We got everything on the list except those little holo-rhinestones you wanted.”

“It’s okay, Reg,” Julie walked around the couch, reaching for the rolls of fabric wedged under his body, “I think I might have enough in my room. Let me go check.”

Taking her spool of iridescent burgundy and grabbing her dress, she dashed out of the room, bypassing Luke without even looking at him.

_Ouch._

Eyes glued to where Julie stood, Luke slouched, eyes darting to Alex. “We don’t talk about what happened! Because nothing happened, okay?”

Looking down at Reggie, Alex raised an eyebrow.

His friend raised one back.

Neither believed him.

“Okay, sure.” Alex patted Luke’s shoulder before reaching for one of bags. His eye lit up at the sight of the brown bottle sitting at the top of the tote. “You found the fabric dye I asked for! I thought the store would be sold out.”

“Yeah, it took us three stores to find it.” Gathering all the bags off his arms, he shoved them to Alex. An expected reaction considering Julie had left for her room and didn’t acknowledge his presence. Luke usually got cranky when Julie ignored him. This time would be no different.

Half of the totes’ contents tumbled out on to the floor.

“But we found it!” Reggie beamed from the couch, wrapping himself up in the beige fabric, using the material as a makeshift blanket. “I never knew craft stores could be so cool. So much yarn—”

“He touched every single one,” Luke deadpanned, taking a seat by the piano. “Every. Single. One.”

“I think I want to learn how to knit,” Reggie mused, enthralled with the idea. “Luke, do you think your mom can teach me how to knit?”

Luke flinched, disturbed by the casual reference of his mother. He turned to the music sheet at the piano, not wanting to engage in the conversation, music the obvious escape. “Maybe. You’d have to ask her yourself.”

Reggie hummed in thought, unaware of the clear hurt behind Luke’s eyes.

But Alex noticed. His heart clenched.

He knew things weren’t great between Luke and his mom, not since the death of _Sunset Curve_ and the inception of _Julie and the Phantoms_. Not that he’d ever say it, but a part of Luke broke at Bobby’s departure. And when Luke was hurt, he dove straight into music. Had done so for as long as Alex could remember.

That was just how Luke coped with the world. With hurt. With his emotions.

With anything really.

Alex couldn’t relate, but he knew the feeling of hopelessness.

“Hey, dude, is everything okay with your mom?” Alex kept his distance, knowing Luke would freeze if they got too serious too fast.

From the couch, Reggie perked up.

A huffed, empty chuckle rumbled out of Luke. He shook his head, hair flopping. “We’re fine. You guys don’t have to worry.” He picked up a pencil and adjusted a note on the music sheet, their newest song needing some tweaks here and there. “Just my mom being my mom.” He kept his head down, tapping a few keys on the piano. “Do you think Julie meant to have the melody be on the down beat or…” He squinted at the paper. He brought it close to his face, the music sheet a hair away from his nose. “Nevermind, it’s on the up. I just couldn’t see it.”

And Luke was back at it again. Focused on music.

Not on his friends, Julie, or his mom.

Alex wasn’t too sure if that was good thing.

* * *

Wednesday was a church service night and after pleading and begging and loosing just a dash of his dignity, Alex was able to convince his friends to attend with him, much to his parent’s delight.

The night went about as well as he expected.

Luke fell asleep halfway through Youth Pastor Leslie’s sermon, head resting against Reggie’s shoulder once the worship portion of service was over.

Julie tried her best to remain engaged, but her phone continued to light up with silent notifications from Flynn, who was updating all their social media accounts and new website with merch and profiles. Julie was fielding the questions since Luke was asleep and Reggie…

Reggie was _too_ invested.

“What does ‘equally yoked’ even mean?” He whispered, brows furrowed in deep concentration. “Yoked as in _eggs_? Are we eggs in this metaphor? Wait—is this even a metaphor? Don’t we start as eggs technically and the sper—”

“Reggie,” Alex hissed, “it’s just a phrase. It means like…being made of the same cloth.”

“We’re cloth now? I thought we were eggs!”

“Nevermind,” Alex muttered, knowing there was no winning in this situation. “Just let it go, Reg.”

“I’m _so_ confused.”

Thankfully Wednesday nights services were only a half hour to an hour long, the sermon done within forty-five minutes and the adult bible study finishing around the same time.

Waiting for Alex’s parents in the youth annex building, the four hung out around foosball table, most of the other waiting teens taking up the video game station and pool table in the youth group game room.

Reggie was determined to beat Julie in foosball, yet she was already two for two.

Standing side by side, Alex and Luke watched the two go at it, silently rooting for Julie to win. She had a habit of being a sore loser during board games, and Alex was positive a match of foosball would be no different. “So…when your parents said they were going to take us out to eat,” Luke began, “what kind of food are we talking about?” Luke’s nose scrunched. “It’s not going to be that soy deli again right? Because I am sure that vegan cheese is poison.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “No. More like Vietnamese. We’re going to Pho café.”

“Nice!” Luke cheered, fist pumping the air.

“And I think I’m going to tell them. Tonight.”

Luke froze, fist mid-air. “ _What_?”

“I’m gonna tell them…” He glanced around the room. None of the other teens in the room paid any mind to him or his friends, like usual. To them, he was just the pastor’s kid who spent too much time with his head in the clouds. “...I’m…ya know...” He waved his hands, not wanting to say the word while anyone can hear.

“Really?” Luke’s voice jumped three octaves, shocked.

“I kind of almost told them this morning,” Alex confessed. “I was about to say it then—then juice spilled and that was the end of that. But I almost said it.”

“That’s huge, dude,” Luke praised, clapping Alex’s shoulder.

“I had the confidence this morning to just say it. I figured I might as well try again. But maybe with you guys there so…so I don’t feel so alone.”

His best friend gave him a small smile, a caring glint in his eyes. “Of course, dude. We’re your family, no matter what.”

For once Alex didn’t feel fear at the thought of telling his parents. Instead he felt safe and sure, like even if the worst happened, nothing could go wrong.

“ _Yes_!” Julie leapt in the air.

She scored the final goal.

“No!” Reggie crumpled to floor, moaning in agony.

“In your face!” She whooped, running to Alex and Luke for hi-fives. “Who’s the foosball queen? I’m the foosball queen!” Slapping her hands to theirs, she continued her little dance, lifting her hands to air. “Who’s the foosball queen? I’m the foosball queen!” She pointed to herself, lost in her own little ditty.

Beside him, Luke was smitten down to the core. He brimmed with joy, before leaping in and joining Julie in her little happy dance. He twirled her around, giggles filling the air.

From the ground, Reggie moped but began to perk as their friends’ joy filled their little corner of the room.

Alex wanted that. What Luke and Julie had, even if they were in denial about the entire _Juke_ situation. He wanted to be happy because someone he loved was happy. He wanted to cheer because someone he loved was ecstatic.

And maybe he could have that with Willie, if he really accepted that yeah, they went on dates and were…almost boyfriends.

He just needed to tell his parents.

An arm wrapped around his shoulders, a familiar head of brunette hair resting against his arm. “They are stupid in love aren’t they?” his mother asked, keeping her voice quiet.

“Oh yeah, it’s disgusting.” Alex faked gagging, his mother laughing with him.

She squeezed his shoulder. “Oh honey, you’ll find your person. And they’ll make you stupid like that.”

“I don’t know if I want to be _that_ stupid.”

Both watched as Luke attempted to convince Julie for another round of foosball claiming he could capture her title, a challenge that was more so a flirty attempt to rile her up than anything else.

“Who wants some Pho?” His mother declared to his friends. All three stopped their antics, at attention at the sight of Lydia. “My husband is finishing up some last minute things for the adult class and Charlotte is going with her Auntie Lynn for some _McDonalds_.” She rolled her eyes at that; Charlie was a picky eater and she’d take any opportunity to avoid ‘healthy food.’ “So that means this old lady needs to tag along in the van if you want her to pay for your meal.”

“Yes! Food!” Luke cried out, already running out of the building to the van without any prompting.

“Thanks so much Mama Lydia!” Reggie crawled off the floor and rushed for a quick hug. Lydia accepted the hug without missing a beat, well aware of Reggie’s affectionate nature.

Julie was last to follow, choosing to keep pace with both Alex and his mother as they left to the van. They left the youth annex, the sounds of games sounding off and music thrumming heard from outside. It was a short walk across the quad to the parking lot, the three keeping an upbeat pace.

As they passed the main sanctuary building, Alex’s chest clenched. His dad was still in there. Probably wouldn’t be joining them for another half hour.

He had time.

He could do this.

(Bright neon sign went off—' _BUT ARE YOU SURE?’_ )

“Thanks again, Mrs. Bennet, for letting us come along,” Julie said, breaking the companionable silence between the three.

“Honey, please call me Lydia,” his mother insisted as they came up to the van. Reggie and Luke were waiting, leaning against the sliding door. “You are like family now. Same as these two,” she nodded to the boys, who preened at the attention. “Any friends of Alex’s are always welcomed to come along to church or the house or wherever.”

Alex unlocked the car, the five of them climbing in. His mother claimed the passenger seat with no arguments, while Luke, Reggie, and Julie sat on the back bench in that order.

Reggie didn’t see the problem, happy to be between his two closest friends.

Luke on the other hand…he slouched, looking out the window, dejected.

“I’ll pull up the GPS,” his mother told him, tapping through her phone, “and you focus on the driving.”

Her comforting presence made driving easier, Alex able to get out of the parking lot and on to the street without breaking a sweat. He easily merged on to the highway, his mother ordering directions in a calm voice, one he often relied on when he started to freak out on the road.

From the backseat, his friend were stunned.

“Is…is Alex actually driving at a normal speed?” Luke asked, leaning forward. “Not at a granny pace?”

“Shut up,” Alex hissed, ready to reach a hand back and whack him.

“Eyes on road,” his mother ordered, paying no mind to Luke. “You are doing great, honey.”

This was why his mother taught him how to drive. Not his dad. Lydia Bennet was patient and knew how to read people like her favorite book. She knew how to read the room, how to address a problem, and how to tackle it with finesse.

However his dad would have freaked out. Samuel Bennet would have had a panic attack within three seconds of sitting in a car with Alex, and proceed to jump out at the first opportunity. Samuel Bennet didn’t do well with high pressure situations (his high blood pressure was evidence) and anything with Alex seemed to always be a high pressure situation.

He wondered if telling his mother first would ease the entire situation. Make things easier when he eventually told his dad.

Within twenty minutes they arrived at their destination.

“That was faster than I expected,” Julie said, Luke and Reggie climbing over each other to get out the door. “No offense, Alex,” she added a moment later.

He shrugged, not bothered by the fact. Driving slow and steady allowed him to drive with some peace. Maybe his friends didn’t like it, but it helped him and that was all that mattered.

“Why don’t you guys go get a table for us?” Alex asked. “I, uh, need to talk to my mom about some…stuff.”

All three froze, eyes widening.

God, they were the least subtle bunch in existence.

Realizing he was staring, Luke shoved Reggie along and helped Julie out of the van. “No problem! No problem at all. Have a fun talk. We love you and you are amazing!”

“Amazing!” Reggie gave him a thumbs up. “Like amazing, amazing, ama—”

Luke slammed the sliding door closed, cutting off Reggie’s blabbering.

His mother chuckled, watching as the three ambled into the restaurant.

“You have good friends.” She turned back to him, a closed mouth smile on her lips. Her expression was a dead giveaway she was apprehensive—Lydia Bennet smiled with gusto, not timid in the slightest. “Now what is this ‘stuff’ you need to talk to me about?”

“Um,” Alex inhaled deeply, gaze dropping down on the wheel, hands still gripping despite being in park, “okay—uh. Where to start?” He phrased, more to himself than her. His logic told him to rip it off like a band-aid, while his heart told him to take his time. He could only do this once. No going back. “I…I like someone. A lot.”

“Okay…” Lydia drawled out, timid smile fading.

“They…they are really nice. And smart. And cool. And they—they have the greatest sense of humor and he-uh-they might like me a lot too and—”

Her hand rested on his wrist, urgent and still. Holding him. Just holding in place.

“Alex, honey, if you are going to tell me what I think you are going to tell me, please—” she inhaled shakily, “I beg you not to.”

Is this what falling into nothing felt like? A swell of horror engulfing from the feet up.

“But Mom—”

“Honey,” her other hand rested on top of his, “ _please_.”

He lifted his head, finding her eyes locked on him in the same loving expression he’d known all his life. Nothing in her gaze changed, her warm and welcoming eyes filled with undaunted love for him.

“I love you, Alex. I’ll always love you, doesn’t matter who you like or don’t like, but I am asking you to not say anything because I want to protect you.”

“Protect me?” he echoed, confused by her logic. “How is this protecting me? I feel like I’m suffocating all the time not saying anything—”

“Because I cannot keep secrets from your father,” she told him in earnest, “that’s not what you do in a marriage. I won’t be able to keep this to myself if you tell me you’re…” She paused, letting the unspoken words weigh down. “I don’t know what your father would do if he…if he _did_ find out. What the congregation would do.” She released his hands and sat back against the passenger seat. “You’re my son. You come first. Not what the church thinks. At least know that.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Alex did not know what else to say. He didn’t expect his mother to be calm or—or even be willing to defend him. To be completely honest, he had no idea how she’d react, but it certainly wasn’t this. “But—but how did you know about—?”

“Alex,” his mother’s full smile emerged, “I’ve known for a long time. Probably longer than you have.”

“ _Oh_ ,” he exhaled, a huge weight lifted from his shoulders. “I never considered the possibility you’d know.”

Her laughter brightened the mood. “Come on, let’s go inside before Luke and Reggie order the entire menu.”

* * *

Dinner was going great. Better than Alex imagined.

They were all squished into a large booth, Reggie, Julie, and Luke on one side while Alex, his mother, and his father—who joined them a few minutes after they were seated—sat on the side opposite.

Laughter and chatter consumed the table, never a quiet moment as conversation flowed effortlessly. No forced small talk or awkward starters. A casual ease to the evening.

Not to mention his dad looked the least stress than he’d been in a long time; as though he finally seized an opportunity to simply enjoy and live in the moment.

Samuel Bennet rarely allowed himself to be carefree; maybe this was him turning over a new leaf, or at least trying to.

Except for the fact his three friends were colossal idiots.

The moment either of his parents would look away or engage in conversation outside of group, the three musical dweebs would give him panicked yet encouraging smiles and thumbs up, trying their best to be supportive.

Honestly, if Alex wasn’t quietly reeling from his talk with his mother and the fact he still felt the urge to tell his father, then he’d say Reggie, Luke, and Julie were the best friends anyone could ask for.

“So tell me what exactly is Monster Mash? Is like a competition?” His dad asked, adding more cilantro to his Pho. “Or is it more like a concert series? Alex just mentioned you guys are in it and it’s a huge deal.”

“It’s a massive gig, but for unsigned, up-and-coming bands,” Luke explained, eyes darting to Alex. “A lot of agents and reps go to it, but it’s open to the public. We even have some close friends going, right Alex?”

Alex wanted to kick Luke in the shin. Desperately.

The only reason holding him back was he didn’t want to kick Julie by accident.

Julie didn’t deserve a kick in the shin, but Luke sure did.

“Close friends?” His dad drawled out, a teasing grin to his tone. “Didn’t know you had a ‘close friend.’”

“Uh—” Alex huffed out, mind drawing to a blank, “—yeah. Yeah I do.”

Beside him, his mother tensed.

“I’m sure they’re excited, your close friend,” his mom said, cheerful and taking the reins in the conversation. “I’m excited for you too! I remember going to Monster Mash when I was a teen. Saw some amazing bands; a lot made it into the big leagues.”

“So is this ‘close friend’ just a friend or more than a friend?” His dad peered over to Alex, steering the conversation back to where they had left off.

“ _Sam_ ,” Lydia hissed, nudging him silent.

“What? He hasn’t mentioned a girl in forever. This is exciting!” He looked over to Luke and Reggie, giving an innocent grin, oblivious to the elephant in the room. “Come on, you guys can tell me—does she go to school with you guys?”

Luke and Reggie shared a look, both unsure of what to say.

“He—she—she!” Reggie blundered, face peppering with red splotches.

“No they don’t,” Luke interjected, saving their poor friend from more word-vomit. “They’re older. Just a year. But older.”

“Yeah,” Julie finally said, shrugging enthusiastically. “We, uh, met them at a gig. Nice person. Really nice person.”

“Yeah, totally nice,” Luke pigged back off of her statement, nodding vigorously. “Nicest person ever!”

“It’s a she!” Reggie blurted out. “Totally she. A female person.”

“ _Shut up, Reggie_ ,” Luke hissed between gritted teeth.

Julie, on the other hand, went with a more direct method and slapped a hand over the stuttering boy’s mouth.

“He’s exhausted,” she reasoned, “he stutters and blabbers when he is tapped out of energy. It’s complete nonsense.”

Reggie glared at her, yet did not fight off her stronghold.

Meanwhile, Alex’s dad looked more and more puzzled by the second. “Alex, what are they going on about?”

He looked to his friends.

Reggie, Julie, and Luke—all tangled up in each other to save one other from blurting out anything that could make the situation worse. They were there for him, to support and encourage. Be the shoulders to lean on in this moment. Be the family he needed and wanted.

But they were also lying for him.

He couldn’t let his friends lie for him.

Alex took a deep breath. “Dad—”

“Alex—” His mother warned, reaching for him.

“Dad, I’m gay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. I know. A cliffhanger.
> 
> But another chapter will be up soon!
> 
> Also I did not realize until halfway through writing the chapter I named a character Lydia Bennet--as in Lydia Bennet from Pride and Prejudice 😂 Whoops! Too late to change it because I always envisioned her as a Lydia.
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are always appreciated :D


	10. Operation 'Save Alex'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO UPDATE. LIKE A WEEK IS A LONG TIME FOR THIS FIC, LOL.
> 
> This last week was crazy busy for me and as much as I wanted to get this chapter out and reply to all the comments from the previous, I just had to hold off. But here it is!
> 
> Also if you commented last chapter and I have yet to reply, I WILL REPLY. Give me another day or two. A lot of you shared heartfelt comments and antidotes, I want to make sure I give y'all love back <3
> 
> Typos will be fixed later; enjoy!

* * *

“I’ve never seen her this worked up before.”

“Me neither.”

“Do you think she’s gonna run a trench into the floor?”

Luke’s head snapped to him, brows pulled together in an annoyed frown. “No, Reggie. She’s not going make a trench pacing when she is on _hardwood floor_.”

“Shut up!” Julie muttered, eyes trained on the ground. One foot after the other she continued her trek to-and-fro. To the edge of the couch, turning on her heel, then making her way to the other end of the couch; back and forth like clockwork. “I’m trying to think here! Because one of us has to and it sure isn’t going to be Alex!”

Reggie and Luke shrank together on the couch, Wednesday nights events crashing back into their minds like tsunami. Not to mention the voicemail they received that morning.

Alex told his parents he was gay. Which should be a ‘yay!’ but instead it was awkward silence. Then after awkward silence it was an awkward dinner followed by an awkward goodbye and Alex MIA for the next two days. Just a text here or there from their friend before they all got a voicemail from Alex explaining he was leaving the band—due to his parents orders.

But Reggie _knew_ Mama Lydia. She’d never make Alex quit the band, not even under the most drastic circumstances. This was all Mr. Bennet’s fault. He just knew it, even if Alex didn’t explicitly say it was.

“We only have so many options in this situation,” Julie reasoned, the boys nodding along. If there was anyone who’d find a solution to this unpredicted problem, it’d be Julie. She was a fighter and wanted the best for everyone—that’s kind of what Reggie loved about her. “Option one—we find a new drummer in,” she double checked her watch and winced, “in less than nine hours and have them perfectly rehearsed and in sync with us for a professional performance.” She stopped in front of them, hands on her hips, staring down with growing nerves. “Do either of you know a drummer that skilled?”

Reggie nodded, raising his hand up. “Yeah—”

“That’s not Alex,” Julie amended.

He dropped his hand back down to his lap. “No. Nevermind.”

“It’d be impossible to find a drummer in less than a day.” Luke glanced between the two, looking worse for wear—face blotchy, eyes red with exhaustion. They’d all been restless since Wednesday night, worried for Alex. “And for them to learn all our songs? That’s asking for a miracle.”

“We can work with miracles,” Julie assured him, taking back up her pacing. Back and forth, back and forth. “Hello, we’re _Julie and the Phantoms_ we were formed on a whim and bam—greatness! Miracles are our M.O.”

Luke didn’t seem convinced. An odd switch of roles considering Luke was the cheerleader and encourager of their friend group, ready to bust out a pep-talk whenever the moment seemed fit. While Julie…Julie was their hope and reason. Usually they worked in tandem, but this wasn’t that.

“What’s option two?” Reggie asked, hoping to keep the conversation going. Hoping they’d find a solution not just for them, but for Alex too. At least in the long run.

“We play songs without drums.”

“What?” Luke uttered, appalled by the suggestion. “Just cut out the drums?” He shot up from his spot on the couch, standing in front of her. “That’s even worse than option one! Everything we write has drums. Because we have a drummer!”

“Well right now we _don’t_ ,” Julie reminded him, a bit biting, “and I’m the only one trying to fix this, unlike you who keeps on moping!”

“Because our friend is in trouble!” Luke looked at Reggie for help.

He just slumped further into the couch, praying Ray came into the living room soon to announce breakfast. He really wanted to eat his feelings at the moment.

“I get that! Don’t you think I’m worried about Alex too? But we made a commitment to perform in Monster Mash—a performance that can change our band’s career. A performance that is _tonight_.”

“But we can’t just cut out drums,” Luke scoffed, stepping further away, “everything I have ever written has drums. Since Alex and I were kids. Even if we use a synthesizer, it wouldn’t be the same. We’d lack that sound that makes us, _us_!”

Julie didn’t argue with Luke. They were _Julie and the Phantoms_ the _Phantoms_ being Luke, Reggie, and Alex. Taking out any piece of the puzzle would ruin the picture. And right now, their puzzle was missing a piece and nothing would make it look right again—unless they had Alex.

All of them felt it; the pain of Alex never performing with them again. No wonder Luke looked on the verge of tears and Julie was trying her best to fix the situation because she hated feeling helpless.

And Reggie? Well Reggie knew best to stay quiet in times of stress.

“Maybe…maybe we should just call the concert director and tell them we have to cancel,” Julie mumbled, defeated by the reality. “What else is there to do?”

Both Luke and Julie, broken and defeated, fell into agreeable silence. Distraught, agreeable silence.

“I made breakfast burritos!” Ray announced from the kitchen. He came around the corner, a plate of stacked high burritos in his hand. “Beans, papas, chorizo, egg, pico de gallo, and my own special ingredient.”

Reggie felt his heart, and stomach, lift at the sight of food. “Is the special ingredient ‘love’?”

Ray paused, unsure of what to say, before giving a wholehearted nod. “If you want to believe the special ingredient is love, sure _mijo_.”

He set the food on the coffee table and waited.

When no one went jumping for the burritos as they usually did (last week was intense, Luke and Reggie playing several rounds of rock-paper-scissors for the last one as Ray had no more tortillas and needed to go grocery shopping later that day), the older man’s frown of concern deepened.

“ _Que paso_?” He asked, gesturing to the three. “Today is Monster Mash—you three should be excited!” His hand clapped together, as though ready to break out into a cheer for them. “Today is a big day, a fun day. I made my special breakfast burritos for the occasion. There is enough for everyone, even Alex for whenever he gets here.”

That was enough to break Luke.

Collapsing on to the couch, Luke curled into the corner as tears forced their way through. Smothering his face into his hands, he turned as far away from everyone as he possibly could. “I’m fine! I’m fine,” he stressed before anymore questions could be asked.

On the opposite side of the living room, Ray stood stunned. Luke wasn’t a major crier (crying during sad and beautiful movies did not count—Luke told him so). So to see him just…cry and be red in the face, it was daunting in a not so fun way.

Feeling eyes on him, Luke sat up, mumbled something about using the restroom and was gone down the hall in a matter of seconds. He was fine with emotion, at least in front of the guys and Julie, but with Ray in the room, Reggie wouldn’t have been surprised if Luke felt embarrassed.

“What happened?” Ray asked again. He eyed Reggie and Julie, his own expression becoming heavy, perhaps sensing their distress.

“Alex’s parents forced him to quit the band.” Julie sighed, taking a seat at the edge of the couch. “Because he’s gay. He came out to them the other day and it didn’t go well.”

“Ah, I see.” Ray swallowed tightly, affected deeply by the news. Walking around the coffee table, he sat down in the open spot between Julie and Reggie. Like gravity, the two leaned against each of his shoulders, relying on his comforting presence to hopefully not crumble.

“Mama Lydia probably didn’t do it,” Reggie felt the need to defend, “I know she didn’t. She’s not like that.”

“I know Lydia pretty well too.” Ray assured him, patting his knee. “She and I have became friends over this last year. I cannot speak for her, but I understand where you are coming from, _mijo_. That reaction and decision doesn’t sound like her.”

“But it still happened,” Julie reminded them, sitting up to look at her dad and Reggie. “We have our biggest performance yet and Alex is not here. It’s not right. He doesn’t deserve to be trapped in his own home.”

“‘Trapped in his own home’?” Ray echoed. “Those are some dark words.”

“He’s basically been under house-arrest since Wednesday,” Reggie explained. “Didn’t even go to school these last two days. He said it was because he wasn’t feeling well but…” He trailed off. “I think his dad might be trying to switch his schools.”

“How do you know that?” Ray asked, not one questioning if Reggie was speaking the truth or not. He just wanted to understand, give the benefit of the doubt. That’s kind of what made Ray awesome—he listened.

“Because he sent a group text message saying he wasn’t too sure if he’d be going back to school,” Julie added. “His dad is looking at other private schools.”

“That’s….that’s a lot. A lot to take in,” was all Ray could say. Wrapping an arm around both their shoulders, he pulled them into a brief but warm hug. “I don’t know what to do to help you, but know I support you two. No matter what.”

“Thanks Papi,” Julie mumbled into his shoulder, hiding away her own frustrated tears.

“And…” he drawled out grabbing their attention once more, “…what I don’t know won’t hurt you.”

Reggie looked up at him, face scrunching; what did that mean?

As though sensing their puzzled stares, Ray released his hold of the two and sat up. “This is a big gig. Alex deserves to be there. You shouldn’t cancel the performance…if you _somehow_ got him to Monster Mash without his parents knowing, well then—” Ray shrugged a little, sharing a quick glance at the two, “—who am I to know?” He stood up and snatched a burrito from the plate. “Don’t his parents have their church’s Harvest Festival tonight? I got the evite.”

Was Ray suggesting…what Reggie thought he was suggesting?

“Are you saying we should sneak—”

Julie leapt over to Reggie, tackling him down and slapping and hand over his mouth.

“Whatever you don’t know doesn’t hurt us!” Julie near shouted in Reggie’s ear, but her eyes were locked on her dad, daring him to challenge his own words. “That’s what you told us right? What you _just_ said?”

“I suppose,” Ray said, giving a shrug. “Who am I to take back my own words?”

An all too wide grin formed on her lips.

“Band meeting in the studio in ten minutes!”

She released her hold on Reggie and dashed down the hall for Luke, repeating her orders as she went.

Looking up from where she disappeared, Reggie found Ray staring in the same direction with a small, proud smile. Julie had a way of brightening the room when her mind was set, her compassion out winning anything challenged towards her. An infectious determination their band needed, especially in times like these.

Reggie just hoped one day he could receive a proud smile like that.

“Eat up _mijo_ ,” Ray told him, motioning to the cooling burritos, “it sounds like you three have a long day ahead of you.”

No need to be told twice, Reggie snatched two burritos, one half shoved into his mouth as he hurried to eat the food.

He was right. The day would be long, and between Julie or Luke taking the lead, Reggie was positive they’d both forget about food.

Knowing this, Reggie grabbed the entire plate. “I promise to make sure they eat!” He called out, making his way to the door before Julie could round the corner and remind him (read: shout in his ear) how it was almost time for their band meeting.

“Thank you!”

Reggie was happy to do his part.

* * *

The plan was rough.

But perfect.

Operation ‘Save Alex’ was in motion the moment they all agreed on a mode of action. Which came faster than Luke, Julie, and Reggie expected—however when they put their minds together, anything was possible.

All they needed to do was sneak Alex out of the house after his parents left for the church’s Harvest Festival. He’d change in the back of Rachel, the Barren Van as they traveled to Monster Mash. If they calculated their travel right, accounting for afternoon traffic, they’d be able to make it in time for sound check. If they didn’t make it in time, Flynn would already be at the venue, leaving earlier, and stall until the band got there. Once they got there, they’d sound check, hang-out for a little bit—maybe Alex will see Willie and his mood would brighten—they’d perform and then get out of there. Before midnight they’d get Alex home, in his room, like nothing ever happened. His parents would be none the wiser once they got back.

Everyone won in this plan. It was full proof.

Easy-peasy.

“What part of ‘my dad basically has me under house arrest and won’t let me go anywhere’ do you three not understand?” Alex hissed, leaning further out the front door.

Except for the fact they didn’t tell Alex and expected him to go along with whatever they planned.

A far reach in retrospect, considering this was _Alex_.

“Dude,” Luke stepped forward, meeting Alex eye for eye, “don’t be a goody-toe shoes for once and get in the van!”

Their friend hesitated.

“You guys,” he sighed, shoulder slumping, “I get what you three are doing but…” His lighthearted eyes were dim, like all the life got sucked out. “But there’s no point to it. This is just going to solve the problem for tonight. What about the next gig? Or rehearsing—I don’t even know if I am going to live here next week, or be shipped off to some private Christian school in Florida!” His face twisted in pain. “ _Florida_ , you guys.”

Not taking no for an answer, Luke rested his hands on Alex’s shoulders and shook him a little. “Alex, we won’t let that happen—”

“You really are ridiculous,” Alex shook him off, eyes darting to both Reggie and Julie, as though asking for help. Yet they remained on Luke’s side. “I want to go, I really do. I haven’t even told anyone what has happened. Except you guys. My parents won't stop arguing. It's my fault. It's all my fault. And—and I hate this _so_ much!” His voice cracked, eyes watering.

Alex was cut from an emotional cloth. Same as Julie. Both were alike that way—feeling way too much and not enough. And it’s appear in the form of lots, _like a lot_ , of tears. But usually Alex sealed back up, kept his composure and didn’t want to be comforted, even if he _did_ want to be comforted. A weird contradiction, but one Reggie never questioned.

But this time was bad. Worse than any of them had ever seen.

Without missing a beat, Luke threw his arms around Alex, holding him close. “I know, buddy. I know,” he muttered, choked up. Reggie piled on the hug in an instant, Julie following soon after. All four huddled close together, with little intention of letting go any time soon. “And I know this doesn’t solve for the long term, but it solves for now. And that’s the best we have.”

They must have looked a little funny. A werewolf, a vampire, and the Phantom of the Opera, all piled on to their tallest member, but there was nothing amusing about the situation.

This could be the last time they’d all hug like this. Squished, elbows ribbing into each other, hot (and stinky) breath—but together.

Reggie held on tighter.

“Please, Alex,” he said, eyes screwed shut, “just come and perform Monster Mash with us. We don’t want to do it with anyone else.”

Arms trapped between each other, the group waited with baited breath.

They wouldn’t force anything in Alex, especially something like this. But at the same time, Alex deserved to perform at Monster Mash. His hard work contributed to where they were today, an entire band effort. Plus, performing without him wouldn’t be the same.

But if Alex wanted to let _Julie and Phantoms_ pass away quietly…they weren’t going to stop him.

Their friend was quiet for a long time, all hope lost. Then—

“Fine,” Alex uttered, exasperated but undeniably grateful. “Let’s go to Monster Mash!” He pushed Luke off, causing both Julie and Reggie to stumble. Yet no one minded in light of the exhilarating news. “Like now—before any of the neighbors see and report to my mom and dad—”

“Right, right!” Luke hurried down the front porch steps, taking the lead. Double checking the surrounding houses, he nodded once. “We look good—get your stuff. Let’s go!”

In a flurry of clothes stuffed duffle bags, phone chargers, and locked doors, the band rushed down the steps of the house to the awaiting van out front. Reggie beelined to the driver’s seat, hoping in and jamming his keys into the ignition.

Glancing up to the rearview mirror, he saw Julie, Luke, and Alex climb in through the back doors.

“Here—” Julie handed up Luke’s guitar case to the passenger seat, “—we need more room for Alex to change back here.”

Fumbling with the case, Reggie set it down—more like dropping with ease—on to the passenger side floor. A few other bags and knick-knacks were tossed his way (like why the hell did Luke have pillows and blankets in the van? This was not a fun vehicle to take a nap in—Reggie knew; he tried to during free period last week) before Luke thumped the back of the driver’s seat.

“Go, dude! Go!”

He pressed on the gas, leaving before any neighbors had the mind to check out the rumbling van speeding down the street.

Step One of Operation ‘Save Alex’ complete.

* * *

The drive was…rough.

“Ow! Julie! That’s my eye!”

“I’m sorry, but you cannot even see your eyes with all this gauze on! You need eyeliner—”

“I’m fine!”

“Dude, I’d listen to her. You just kind of look…dead.”

“ _Isn’t that the point_!”

Reggie winced behind the wheel, starting to make his exit off the highway. For the majority of the thirty minutes (ten of which were spent sitting at a stand still as there was a fender-bender a few cars up ahead) there was a lot of yelling, screaming, and arguing. He was positive Luke held Alex in a headlock in order for something to be put on right because apparently trying to change in the back of a moving van on the highway, with a drum set and other instruments rattling around and taking up most of the free space, was difficult.

For once Reggie was happy to be excluded.

“Sit still—there! All done!” Julie cheered, her eyeliner capped closed. “See? Was that so bad?”

“Are my eyes supposed to feel like they were attacked by vultures?”

“You’ll get use to it,” she reasoned. Some shoving and shuffling sounded through the van before Julie’s head popped up near Reggie’s. “Are we almost there? Flynn says she can only stall for another few minutes or the stage manager is going to start asking questions.”

“Almost.” Reggie was turning on the right street, spotting the building where the rooftop concert would be held. The place gave old abandon warehouse vibes, yet the pulsing music and lights from above told him the building was well occupied. Making a left to the back entrance, Reggie saw a few security lingering around the alleyway passage. “Can you get our passes from the glove compartment?”

Julie nodded, scooting over to reach across the middle console.

Down in the cupholder, his cell phone pinged.

“Oh, I can get that for you!” Julie’s snatched up his phone before continuing on her original task.

Panic flared in Reggie’s chest. There was only one person who’d be texting him when the entire band was literally in the same room as him.

“No, it’s okay!” One hand on the wheel, he tried to grab back his phone. “I got it, Julie.”

“Hey! Two hands on wheel!” Alex cried out from the back seat. His gauzy head popped between the floof of Julie’s black, sparkly skirt and the driver’s seat, glaring like a disappointed mother at Reggie. “I am trusting you to drive safely! You are the only one I trust to do this—”

“Hands on wheel! Got it!” Reggie planted both hands on the wheel, to shut up Alex, yet his eyes darted to where Julie still held his phone. She handed over the passes, the phone still clutched in her hand.

Accepting the passes, Reggie drove forward until he reached security. Only to realize his window was still up. With great effort he turned the window crank, the old glass window slowly jutting down with each full turn.

After a few minutes passed, with only a small crack available, the security guard took pity. “Just slide the passes through and I’ll scan them. I know who you guys are.”

“Really?” Luke came barreling to the front, sticking his head over the passenger seat and pressed near the window.

“Yeah,” the security guard drawled out, “my daughter loves you guys. Won’t stop playing that song…” He hummed a little of ‘Bright,’ “…really good. Hope you guys get a deal soon.” He pushed the passes back through the window. “I know a lot of labels will be here tonight.”

“Thank you!” Reggie beamed, catching the passes and handing them back out to the rest of the band. “He knows us!”

“I know!” Luke shook the back of the driver’s seat, beyond excited.

“This is real. This is really happening,” Alex muttered, eyes wide.

“Yeah,” Luke lightly shoved Alex’s shoulder, grinning, “yeah it is.”

Still on the high of being recognized, Reggie continued his drive the back of the building. More security directed him towards the small designated parking area for performers, he pulling into the first available spot.

Reggie’s phone pinged again.

“Oh, shoot, your phone.” Julie swiped the screen (damn him for never setting a passcode—not that his friends wouldn’t figure it out within a few minutes) and tapped away, Reggie stuck parking the van.

“Really, you don’t have to Jules—”

“Who is Carolyn?”

Alex and Luke’s head snapped to her. “ _Who_?”

“And why is she coming tonight?” Julie continued to ask, yet Reggie felt all his words get trapped in the middle of his throat. “And thanking you for getting her a pass?”

“Uh,” Reggie looked forward, afraid to look any of his friends in the eye, “she’s—she’s just a friend—”

“Wait—” Luke held a hand out, stopping Reggie or Julie from speaking further, shock marring over his face in horrified slow-mo. “‘Carolyn’? You don’t know any Carolyn’s except—”

“ _Carrie_?” Alex yelped, stumbling to his feet. Well as much as he could in the cramped van. “You’re talking to Carrie? Carrie Wilson?”

“‘Carrie’ as in my ex-best friend Carrie?” Julie added, jaw dropping.

All three stood hunch in the van, staring down at Reggie with mixed levels of betrayal and confusion.

“Maybe?” He squeaked out, eyes shut tight.

If he couldn’t see them, then maybe this situation wasn’t happening.

“How could you—”

Thumping outside the van ceased Luke’s next words.

“Guys!” Flynn yelled from outside, voice muffled. “Come on! We haven’t got all night!”

Huffing, Luke shoved his Phantom of the Opera mask into place over the right side of his face. “This conversation isn’t over, Reginald!”

Moving past Julie and Alex, Luke opened the sliding side door and hopped out of the van. His cape fluttered in the wind, in a dramatic, theatrical display.

Maybe the Phantom of the Opera was a perfect costume pick for Luke—he really did have the flare for it. But that didn’t mean his words or exit hurt any less.

To his far right, Julie gave a small shrug, lips pulled into a tight line. “I’m not saying we should be your only friends but…you know how she treated me. You could have at least said something and not hide it.” She dropped his phone back into the cupholder and hurried after Luke. The van’s back doors were flung open, both Luke and Julie apparently getting ready to unload. A welcomed distraction.

Alex, on the other hand, lingered.

“You like her, don’t you?”

“ _Pfftttt_ ,” Reggie raspberried, a hard chuckle wheezing out of him. “Carrie? Carrie Wilson? I don’t like-like Carrie Wilson like that! She’s Carrie!”

His chuckle formed into a broken groan. Heavy hearted, he dropped his forehead against the top of the wheel and pulled out the keys.

He didn’t like Carrie. He really didn’t.

They were just friends. Who talked about deep stuff sometimes. Not all the time. But sometimes. It was just nice to talk to someone who wasn’t Luke, Julie, or Alex. Who was outside of the band and their whacky modge-podge family.

And Carrie was nice! Sometimes. Not all the time. But she was getting better! Honestly, she was.

Alex patted his shoulder. “Reg, I know I am probably not the best person to give advice right now about feelings since…” Reggie peaked up at him, finding his best friend frowning down at the carpeted floor, “…since all things considering, but if you like Carrie, I don’t think you should let Luke or Julie or whoever,” he added with an eyeroll, “get in your way. Because we all liked Carrier before, the ya know, Bobby stuff. Luke and Julie are just hurt about a bunch of different things that have nothing to do with you and Carrie liking each other.”

“You’re…you’re not upset too?” Reggie asked, surprised by Alex’s sudden calm demeanor and acceptance. He expected Alex to pace away, sputter every bad thing about Reggie potentially like Carrie— _because he didn’t like her okay!_

“I’m upset with Bobby and maybe how Carrie handled her friendship with Julie, but why am I going to be upset with you? I love you, buddy.” Alex’s words were simple fact, no hesitation or forcedness to them. Reggie would miss this if Alex left. “And if she makes you happy, then we can figure out the rest later.”

“I don’t like Carrie,” Reggie repeated, though the phrase sounded empty to his ears.

“Sure you don’t,” Alex relented, stepping away from Reggie and towards the door. “I have a drum kit to finish unloading and you still need to put on the rest of your werewolf face,” he reminded him, “See ya in a bit.”

Alex hopped out of the van, his gauze waving in the wind.

Brows pinched, Reggie leaned against the cracked window and peeked up at the sky.

Gray clouds were forming, yet the afternoon sun lingered in subdue brightness.

If worse came to worse and a down pour came from the heavens, they’d have to wait out the weather and see.

His phone pinged again.

**_ Carolyn  _ ** **_(5:16PM)_ **

**_Break a leg. All of you._ **

**_I’ll see you after <3_ **

****

His heartbeat leapt up a notch, thrumming faster than ever before.

****

She used a heart emoji.

Carrie used a _heart_ emoji.

The emoji shaped like a heart, sent from her—Carrie Wilson—to him, Reggie.

Oh god.

_He liked her._ He did. He really did.

This…this was not good.

Not at all.

(But that didn’t stop Reggie from looking for her in the crowd when they went on stage.

She was front and center. Smiling up at him. Dressed up as Little Red Riding Hood. Because he was a werewolf, and of course she’d figure out a way to match.

But the joy Reggie felt at the sight of her faded fast as he took in the rest of the crowd.

Because beside her was Bobby. Glaring up at them.

To their right was Willie, whooping and cheering along. Eyes only for Alex.

And to their left, a few people away and a bit lost in the crowd, was Mama Lydia and Ray—talking. To each other. Furious and on edge.

This…this was not good. Not good at all.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUNNNNNN.
> 
> So much happened and we didn't get clear cut answers about what exactly happened with Alex and his family. But Samuel wants to send him away while Lydia...well we don't know Lydia's side yet, just that Reggie is adamant that his Mama Lydia wouldn't agree to something like that. But we do know Alex is hurting and just wants to be with his friends.
> 
> ALSO CARRIE AND REGGIE? WHAT? Shout out to everyone who called that potential pairing!
> 
> AND BOBBY. SOMETHING IS A BREWING THERE.....👀
> 
> Also, if anyone is going through/has gone through anything similar to Alex, or is/has experienced rejection from loved ones, please know you are loved and not alone. You are loved tremendously ❤ Please know this. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated! Love discussing the fic with you guys!


	11. He Said, She Said, They Said

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SORRY FOR THE TWO WEEKS OF NOTHING.
> 
> Life go busy, this chapter got complicated (you'll understand soon...), needed to cover a lot of ground with this one.
> 
> Does this almost 11k chapter make up for it?
> 
> Typos will be fixed later! Enjoy!

* * *

Ray handed each of the children a towel, ignoring their downtrodden and pitiful stares.

Each one—Julie, Reggie, Luke, and Alex—were sopping wet, even after the car ride back home. Rain pelted hard on the window the entire drive, a harsh reminder of the events that had transpired back at Monster Mash. The moment they pulled into the driveway, Carlos came running to the porch with towels and then went back into hiding in his room, Victoria hot on his heels. Ray wouldn’t be surprised if the two were sitting on the landing, listening to the conversation.

“Ray—” Luke swallowed and cleared his throat, attempting to back track, “I mean, Mr. Molina, sir. We can explain— _ow_.” The boy winced, clutching the right side of his face. A bright red bruise formed under his eye. The exact spot Ray had seen hit when Luke stumble and fell, only to collide with the side of the stage.

“Here Lukester—let’s switch that melted bag of ice.” Lydia emerged from the kitchen, carrying a few ice packs in her arms. She handed one to Luke and then crouched down next to Alex. She carefully helped him set one on his rolled ankle, he at some point slipped in the chaos of the night. He only mentioned it once they were halfway home, while the catering team at the venue were kind enough to give Luke some ice.

Neither mother nor son looked at one another.

Ray’s chest ached for them.

Lydia had surprised him, showing up at Monster Mash in a panic. Alex had run off—she had left her church’s Harvest Festival early to be with him—and she knew he’d be at the gig, but that still didn’t stop wayward anxieties from consuming her.

He understood; Ray was positive he’d feel the same way if Julie up and left in the evening without a word. So, he could not help but empathize with the woman. But that’s where most of his sympathy stayed.

Their quick and heated words at Monster Mash told them both neither knew the full story of anything concerning their children and their friends.

“I thought I told you four to always stay together, especially at big gigs. I want to know what happened. Everything,” Ray stated, leaving no room for arguments. “From beginning to end.”

The four teens shared forlorn glances, none of them keen on sharing, but perhaps realizing they did not have many options.

Julie cleared her throat, the leader of the downtrodden pack and taking one for the team. “Okay, um,” she looked at the guys, who all silently urged her to continue, “it started after we finished our set…”

**~*~**

**_THREE HOURS EARLIER_ **

“I am sweating through this so fast,” Julie announced the moment they got off stage, the high of performing wearing off in a matter of seconds. The heavy flare dress was near suffocating under the stage lights and the setting sun peeking through the clouds. “I need to take this off—”

She struggled to wrangle off the coat tail jacket.

“Whoa—whoa,” Luke hurried to her, just a few steps behind on the escape stairs, helping her with the jacket. “You might be overheating. Let’s get you some water.”

“Luke!” Alex called out, a few steps towards the opposite direction, into the crowd entrance. One of the security personnel stood in front of a few screaming and waving fans—all for Luke. Again.

Alex nudged his head to the girls crowding the barriers, before leaving into the crowd, no doubt to find Willie.

“Come on,” Luke began to lead her further backstage, but Julie held back, “what is it? Come on—”

“No,” she shook her head, “go say ‘hi’. Take some pictures. Sign some autographs,” she rolled her eyes a little, hoping to give her best encouraging smile. “I can go on my own.”

Eyes darting to the crowd, he shook his head. “I don’t want to. I want to help you—”

“Luke, girls love you,” Julie told him, stating the facts. “I’ve come to accept that, and you should too. They’re fans. Go do some meet-and-greets.” When he opened his mouth to argue otherwise, she continued, hoping he would see reason. “Think of it as helping the band. If it weren’t for them, who knows where we would be popularity wise.”

“I—”

“I can help Julie,” Reggie piped up, still lingering by the edge of the stage—as though he was nervous to go on out to the crowd. Julie did not blame him; it was jam packed out there. She could not see a thing but jumping and swaying bodies. Plus, she tried not to look at the crowd when they performed; it was easier that way, less nerves.

Reggie jogged over to them, looping his arm with Julie’s before Luke could argue otherwise. “Say ‘hi’ to your fangirls for me!”

“I don’t have fangirls,” Luke hissed as he begrudgingly marched over to the gaggle of girls.

Sharing a look, Reggie and Julie laughed. “He so does,” she chuckled under her breath, letting Reggie lead her further into the backstage area.

They rounded the corner to the refreshment table, the restrooms a few feet away. Julie snatched a mini water bottle from the table and drank all the contents in a matter of seconds.

“‘Whoa was right’,” Reggie muttered, grabbing a water bottle for himself in the meantime. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Fine,” she muttered, sipping another water bottle slowly. They had water on stage, but she plowed through it in no time. “I just get really thirsty sometimes.” Over her water bottle, she eyed him curiously. “Though I have to ask, why are you avoiding going out into the crowd?”

“What?” Reggie wheezed out, hands on his hips. “What are you talking about?”

“You are avoiding going out there,” she motioned back to where they had been moments earlier. Out on the stage another band—The Peasant Cuties—started their set, a sharp guitar rift filling the air. “Why? You love talking to people.”

“I…” Reggie’s eyes darted up, thinking, “…I think I’m okay right here.”

Julie sighed. “Is this about Carrie?”

“What? Carrie? No!” He huffed a laugh, face contorting in pain. “Why would I care about Carrie? Or be hiding from her?”

“You’re hiding from Carrie?”

“ _Who told you that_!” Reggie yelped.

“You did,” Julie deadpanned, “just now.”

“Oh.” He deflated, hugging himself. “Yeah. Yeah I guess I am.”

“Is this…” She hated to say it, but she knew maybe she was the tinniest bit wrong in her reaction, “…is this because of what I said?”

“A little,” Reggie confessed, ducking his head down and kicking his feet a little, reminding Julie of stubborn toddler, “but not really.”

“How so?” She took another sip of her water bottle, only to find it was empty. She reached for another, dropping her first two in the recycling bin.

“Because…” Reggie’s eyes screwed shut, giving a hapless shrug, becoming smaller and smaller. “Because she’s Carrie and I’m Reggie.”

“And?” Julie pressed, not seeing the problem. Well, no problem besides the fact Carrie was Carrie Wilson, who dropped her like a hot potato from one day to the next without little explanation. Even if she was there for her after her mother died, Carrie went back to her usual haughty self within three weeks.

“She’s popular and smart and…and cool. I’m not.”

What was heartbreaking was Reggie seemed to believe every word he spoke.

“That’s not true.” Julie sat her water bottle down and planted her hands on his shoulders, forcing him to look at her. “You are awesome, Reggie. One of the best guys I know.”

He cracked an eye open. “One of?”

She rolled her eyes, teasing. “I very well cannot choose between my three favorite guys. You guys are all amazing and awesome and wonderful in ways I cannot even begin to describe.” She shook him a little, a smile forming on her lips. “And if Carrie doesn’t see that, then screw her. Because she doesn’t deserve someone like you. But you…you need to see you are the best, Reggie.”

“Thanks Jules,” Reggie muttered, a shy smile growing, “you’re kind of awesome too. Like the sister I always wanted.”

Feeling her eyes water, Julie threw her arms around Reggie. “Well then, I’m happy to be your sister.” She dropped down to feet once she felt the welling in her eyes dissipate. “Now go,” she shoved him a little, “I’ll be fine.”

Nodding with his boyish grin, Reggie ran off.

Standing alone by the refreshment table, Julie tried to catch her breath. Shucking off her jacket, she set it aside on a nearby chair and made her way to the restroom.

She pulled her hair back, finding a scrunchie in one of her dress pockets, and splashed cool water on her face. At the moment she didn’t care if her make-up was ruined or smeared, she just needed to breathe a little.

As she dried off her face, the restroom door swung open, one of the all-girl bands performing that night entering mid-conversation.

“Yeah, it’s already sprinkling,” one of the girls, the taller one of the group, muttered as she entered one of the stalls. “And none of the stage managers answered any of my questions when I asked if we had a backup plan if we got rained on.”

“Typical,” the other girl, short and with shocking red hair said. She was a couple of sinks away, reapplying her eyeliner. “That happened two years ago too, back with I was with _Dead Shore_. It started raining, not a down pour, but enough to warrant concern.”

“Lame.”

“And what the hell with that Trevor guy?” The third of the group, Julie recognizing as the lead singer—Molly or something, they met in passing earlier—asked. “He already has a record deal and here he is begging to play last minute. Monster Mash does not do last minute additions. Ya have to be asked to perform buddy-boy.”

“Trevor?” Julie said—not realizing until half a second too late that she spoke aloud.

Molly—yeah, that had to be her name, her shirt was graffitied with it—nodded. “Yeah. Trevor Wilson? The guy who went viral with the song ‘Get Lost’? And almost immediately got a record deal?”

“I know who he is,” Julie assured them. “I’m just surprised he’s here.”

“Aren’t we all?” The stall flushed, the taller girl exiting and heading to the sink beside Julie. She did a quick double take. “Hey, you’re the Julie girl, from _Julie and the Phantoms_.”

“Uh, yeah,” Julie perked a little, “that’s me.”

“Loved the costumes,” she praised, the other girl’s murmuring in agreement. “We actually wanted to talk to you, so perfect timing.” After washing and drying her hands, she held one out. “I’m Addison, that’s Molly,” she pointed to the lead singer, “and that’s Stace.” The shorter girl waved. “We’re _Fahrenheit 32_. We saw you up there—you’re great.”

“Thanks,” Julie smiled politely, still confused as to why the band was speaking to her and wanted to reach out.

“Yeah,” Molly added, “really good. Do you write all your stuff?”

“Yeah, most of it. But Luke—the guitarist—he writes a lot too. We work together.”

All three girls seemed bothered by the news.

“Oh—cool,” Addison said, almost just filling the space. “Because we were wondering if you ever got tired of the Smurfette syndrome you guys got going on, we’d like to offer you our card.”

“Excuse me?” Julie blinked, unsure of what was going on.

Molly stepped forward, producing a small business card with the band’s info and logo. “We’re looking for another member for our band. Our old co-lead vocalist and song writer bailed on us a couple of months back and caused our record deal to collapse. And you fit the bill.”

“Like to a T!” Stace added. “You are fantastic. Better than singing with a bunch of guys,” her nose wrinkled. “We’ve all been in bands with dudes and let me tell you, it’s just creatively better when you’re with women. No boundaries, no judgement. Breaking that ceiling—”

“The point we’re trying to make is you’re too good for them,” Addison took hold of the conversation, clearly the leader of the band. “Way too good. You do realize you are only, what? Sixteen? And have the voice of an angel. Those guys will only bring you down in the long run.”

“I—” Julie did not know what to say. Never in a million years did she think something like this would happen. “I’m sorry, but no. I love those guys; they’re my bandmates, like my brothers—”

“We get it, we do,” Addison assured her. “We were the same with our old bands. But we also understood there are a dime a dozen of bands like that. We have to stand out if we are ever going to make it past this self-starter and indie circuit.”

She set the card on the counter.

“Think about it.”

“Uh—”

A loud crash sounded outside, following by rumbling thunder.

“What the hell?”

The four rushed out the restroom door.

Rain pelted down from the skies, growing in undeterred ferocity as the seconds passed. The audience was already scattering to the lower levels of the industrial style hotel as crew and roadies hurried to protect the equipment and put up extra canopies. Luckily, most of the backstage area was cover and protected, little to no instruments or electrical exposed, but that did nothing to soothe the worries of anyone.

Without any formal goodbyes, Julie hurried to find the boys and Flynn. If the concert was really cancelled, then they need to get out of there and make it home before the sudden downpour became worse and traffic became unbearable.

But as she made her way out of backstage and passed the barriers, she still couldn’t find any of the guys.

Until she heard—

“ _Those were my songs! And you stole them!”_

_“Hey get off me, Luke!”_

Julie hurried, wiggling, and bumping her way through the crowd of bystanders. The moment she heard Trevor Wilson—aka Bobby—was in the crowds, she knew this was bad news. Especially for one emotional, singing-songwriting boy.

Yet as hard as she tried, Julie couldn’t get through, stuck between a wall of people. Standing on her tippy toes she tried to get a better look, but all she saw was glimpse of hair and jacket, along with muffled shouting. Fear swelled in her chest—Luke and Bobby had not seen each other since…well not since they were in _Sunset Curve_ together. Only calls and text messages transpired between the two before Bobby blocked everyone’s number and email addresses.

This was their first face to face in over a year and it was going horribly.

Spotting an opening between two girls, Julie slid her way through, a bit closer to the action.

“Luke! Stop!” she shouted, still unable to see anything clearly. The rain made the world slower and thicker and being squished next to strangers made her trek to Luke almost futile.

Pushing and shoving escalated to a slip of the foot and Luke tumbling down against the front apron of the stage.

“Ay! Cut it out!”

**~*~**

“And I think you know the rest,” Julie finished, giving a half shrug.

“You were getting poached?” Luke uttered, far more concerned with the fact Julie had an ambushed recruitment rather than the fact his face still looked, and probably felt, like hell. “And you just let it happen?”

“I didn’t say ‘yes’,” she bit back, turning a little away from him. “I was surprised. I didn’t know what to do.”

Luke huffed but didn’t comment any further.

“Well, that explains where Julie was during all of this,” Reggie mumbled, brows furrowed, “but I still confused how everything else happened… I wasn’t even around the fight when it broke out!”

“Where were you then after you left Julie?” Alex asked, also confused.

Reggie’s face flared red, he ducking his head down. “Uh…”

\--

“Reggie!”

He barely made it passed the barrier before she came running over to him.

“Carrie! Hi! Uh,” he scratched the back of his neck, “what’s up?”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “‘What’s up’?” she echoed, a giggle tinging her words. “You just had an amazing performance and all you can say is ‘what’s up’.” She shook her head. “Honestly, you guys were great. Probably one of the best performers here.”

“Awe, thanks.” He ducked his head down hoping she didn’t see his furious blush.

“And I mean it.” Her hand rested on his shoulder—so close, so pretty, so manicured. “I feel like you’re most yourself when you are up there performing.”

His mouth went dry.

“I—” _Come on say anything. Anything at all_. “You’re Red Riding Hood!”

“Oh, yeah.” She swayed a little, her petticoat flouncing at the gentle move. Her white dress stood shocking against the deep blood red of her cape; she looked far more innocent and put together than some of the other concert goers who gravitated towards more of the horror side of the holiday or did not bother to dress-up at all. Her usual loose wavy hair was pulled into a twist on the back of her head, her face suddenly there and in front of him like…like a pretty _angel_ he never truly noticed on this Earth until now.

(Goodness, he needed to get a grip.)

Overall, it was a very Carrie rendition of the traditional costume; Reggie would not be surprised if each piece of her costume was designer of some sort.

“Thought it would be fun since you’re…” Carrie gave a little shrug, for once looking maybe…nervous? Was Carrie nervous around _him_? Why on Earth would Carrie be nervous around him? He’s the one who should be nervous! “A werewolf.”

He nodded vigorously. “Yeah. Yeah. Yeah, I get it.”

“And you’re okay with it?”

“Like okay how?” he asked maybe a little too quickly.

“Like—”

**~*~**

“I really don’t need to know all the details of the Reggie and Carrie saga!”

“Shut up, Luke!” Alex cried out, leaning past the disgruntled boy to look at Reggie. “What else did she say?” he asked, buzzing with newfound excitement. “Did she say you looked cute? Or anything, really anything, about how you looked? Did you at least tell her how pretty she looked?”

“I—I—” Reggie stuttered, then miserably crumpling in his chair. “No. Because—”

**~*~**

Thunder crashed above them.

“No!” Carrie yelped at the first touch of rainfall. Her hand snatched his and began to lead them over to the closest awning. “I cannot get wet! This is white.”

“Here!” Reggie shrugged off his jacket—his usual leather one he had to beg Flynn and Julie to let him wear despite both saying it didn’t necessarily match the rest of the werewolf aesthetic they were going for. Shaking it out of any other faux fur remains, Reggie draped the jacket over the front of her costume, helping her get her arms through the sleeves. “There! At least the front of your dress will be protected, and the cape should keep you somewhat— _Omf_!”

Tackled by her strong arms, Carrie pulled Reggie into a fierce hug.

Then lips pressed to his cheek in the sweetest, most heavenly kiss in his entire existence. “Thank you, Reginald.”

**~*~**

“Ew!”

“Shut up, Luke!”

**~*~**

But the sweetest moment of his life ended all too quickly. Bobby emerged from the crowd, soaked, and bruised.

“Come on, Carrie! We’re leaving!” He didn’t even bother to look or greet Reggie, more concerned with fleeing the scene than anything.

He marched towards her and grabbed her arm, ready to pull her along.

“Bobby! Stop.” She wrestled easily out of his hold. “I came here to hang out with Reggie and that’s what I’m going to do.”

“Not if I’m your ride.”

Huffing, Carrie stepped away from Reggie, yet still held his hand. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Sure,” he uttered, knowing he sounded as broken as he felt.

“Come on,” Bobby urged, “before the rain gets worse.”

She nodded, mute and subdued, before letting go of Reggie’s hand.

“Bye…” he mumbled, but she was already too far away to hear him.

He stared at where she had been for the longest time until a familiar body rammed into his side. “Dude! We need to leave—my Mom and Ray are here! And she saw me with Willie. And Luke got into a fight—at least I think he did.”

“ _What_!”

**~*~**

“And now we are full circle,” Reggie declared, pleased with his side of the story. “At least with me that is.”

“That…did not help us at all,” Julie reluctantly announced. “But I see how it does add to the full picture,” she was quick to amend, turning to Ray with wide and pleading eyes. He knew what his daughter was doing—what they were all doing.

They were stalling. They were all stalling for Luke’s sake. Or perhaps Alex’s—the boy had been willing the change the subject whenever the situation brought it forth and avoided his mother’s gaze like a plague.

A valiant but troublesome effort from the four to protect each other.

“What about you Alex?” Ray asked. “Anything you’d like to add.”

“Um…” Alex leaned forward, glancing towards the others. They all looked down. A heavy sigh escaped the boy. “I went to go find Willie, and I met his Uncle.” He reached into his pocket, producing a small business card. Wet and a tad crumpled, the name and contact information remained intact. “He actually left us his card. He’s head of Hollywood Ghost Club Records.”

“The indie jazz label?” Luke asked, leaning closer to get a better look at the card. “Why would he want anything to do with us? We’re pop-rock.”

“I know,” Alex’s face scrunched, also puzzled by the matter, “but he said he’s looking to branch out the company. Sign bands from other genres. Expand. He thinks we might be a perfect fit...”

**~*~**

“Caleb Covington.” The man held out his hand for a firm shake, straight to the point. “My nephew here speaks highly about your little band. Our company can use some fresh blood like you.”

“Thank you.” Alex accepted the proffered card, remembering his manners. “We’ll keep your card on tab. We are still considering all our options.”

“Really?” Caleb’s eyebrows jumped up, surprised by the admission. “I figured with your history you boys would jump at the opportunity to be signed. You did have an offer from Columbia.”

“That was when we were _Sunset Curve_. We are _Julie and the Phantoms_ now, and we do things a little differently. Julie wants us to take it slow.”

“Ah yes,” Caleb nodded sagely, dusting off invisible lint from his impeccable suit, “the _Julie_ of the _Julie and the Phantoms_. Tell me—what is the plan once your band hits the big leagues and larger tours are put on the table, and albums are stirred into the mix?”

“What do you mean?” Alex glanced over to Willie, who remained tight lip since his Uncle commanded the conversation with little prompting.

“William,” Caleb turned to Willie, “why don’t you go grab us some drinks while Alex and I discuss some business?”

For a fleeting moment Willie hesitated. “Actually I—”

“Willie,” Caleb interjected, a stern warning in his tone.

“Right away,” the other boy assured him, leaving the two before any other words could be exchanged.

Alex watched as Willie’s back disappeared into the crowd, gone in a blink.

“You boys are finishing up high school, right? In your last year?” Caleb asked, resting a hand on Alex’s shoulder. He gently led him through the crowd, further away from the stage and towards the tall tables, jack-o-lanterns glowing at the center. The man leaned an elbow on one, looking out towards the Monster Mash crowd, a tell-tale sign of a frown twitching at the corner of his lips. “And then once you graduate, what’s the plan?”

“Work on music,” Alex said, wholeheartedly. “Maybe go to college?” he added as an afterthought. “I got into a local state school and I know Luke is looking at some music programs around here.”

“And the Julie?” Caleb asked, a faint distain at her name.

“She’s about two years younger,” Alex confessed, “she still has to finish school.”

“So, you three are just going to…hang around, waiting?”

Alex did not know how to respond.

Sure, Julie was younger, but that didn’t mean anything to them.

“She’s our lead singer.”

“She’s a weight keeping you three down.” Caleb’s eyes slanted to Alex, determined and still. “Three talented young men cannot be weighed down by a sugar-pop princess. She’d still have school and her life, you three _stuck_ while she finishes up childhood.” The man gave a small shrug. “You three will fall into a limbo and before you know it, she might drop the band all together. She’s a teenage girl. They’re finicky like that.” He gave a soft snort. “Not that you would know, right?”

Alex’s mouth went dry. “Julie is family,” he finally got out, unable to fathom what Caleb was suggesting. “She’s like a sister—”

“Family means nothing in the industry,” Caleb injected in a lethal swoop. He hunched closer to Alex, daring him to look away. “I can offer you boys the _world_. We have the money, we have the resources, we have the connections. Hollywood Ghost Club Records may be small, but we have large powers in our midst. You’d play the largest arenas in less than a year. Packed with screaming fans. You three would become music gods. I can make that happen,” he shrugged, leaning away from Alex, “sans Julie, of course.”

“Then no deal—”

“Don’t be so hasty. Deciding without the other boys,” Caleb tsked, eyes narrowing on him. “What would Luke say?”

“What do you know about Luke—”

“Alex!” A familiar head of brown hair popped up from the crowd. Lydia marched her way to him, her bellbottom pants nearly _swooshing_ as she came closer. Her bright orange sweater and sharp elbowing made the concert goers near-part like the red sea, opening her path. “Honey, I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

“Mom?” he uttered, horrified. God, how he wished the floor would eat him whole.

“I come home, and you’re gone. I knew you’d be here but that didn’t help the worry and—” Her eyes locked on Caleb. “And who are you?”

“Caleb Covington,” he offered his hand. Lydia eyed the appendage warily, and side stepped closer to Alex. Huffing a half laugh-half offended scoff, Caleb dropped his hand back to his side. “I’m Alex’s friend, Willie’s, Uncle and guardian. I presume you are the lovely Mrs. Bennet?”

“Yes,” his mother replied tersely. She rested a warm and comforting hand on Alex’s back. He felt less like a prey, finding himself stepping closer to his mother. “I’m Alex’s mother.”

“I can see the resemblance. Those eyes—”

“He has my husband’s eyes,” Lydia corrected without missing a beat. “And I don’t see Willie here—”

“You know what Willie looks like?” At this point, Alex wanted to smother his face into the ground like an ostrich.

“Of course, I do, honey. I am a mother; I have eyes everywhere.” She wrapped an arm around him, holding him close. “As I was saying, I don’t see Willie here which means this conversation is over. Come on,” she hurried Alex along, eyes locked on Caleb, threatening.

“Alex, my offer is as it stands,” Caleb called out as his mother led him away.

“What the hell is he talking about?” Lydia rounded on Alex, staring him dead in the eye. “What offer?”

“He made an offer for the band but,” Alex shook his head, “it doesn’t matter. We wouldn’t do it. Ever. It’s all of us or nothing.”

“I don’t like him,” his mother said, staring off to where Caleb had been. He disappeared in their departure. “He gives me the creeps. Something is really off about him.”

“Yeah, I felt it too.” He could have sworn he had seen Caleb before. Maybe at another gig. There was something oddly familiar about the guy, especially how he dressed. Far too formal for an outdoor, Halloween concert.

“Despite his Uncle, Willie seems like a nice boy.”

Alex’s attention snapped back to his mother. “You saw Willie? You weren’t joking about having eyes everywhere?”

“He seems cute,” Lydia continued, maybe trying a little too hard to sound casual. “Good height. Nice hair. Memorable smile.”

Alex frowned. “We’re not having this conversation.”

“Alex—”

“Nope,” he shook his head, backing away from her. “This is weird, okay. I’m not going to talk to you about—about guys!”

She reached for him, a flash of desperateness in her eyes. “I’m trying to be supportive—”

“Well I needed that back at home!” Alex turned away from her, threading through the crowd as fast as he could.

“Alex!” She cried out, her voice melting into the thunder hounding above them.

He wadded his way through the crowd, shoving and elbowing further away from her with little mercy. It wasn’t until he was knocked into the shoulder and propelled a foot or two forward did he find himself front row and center to the chaos in the pit.

Standing toe to toe was Luke and Bobby, neither looking too pleased see the other. Seeing the two together caused Alex’s anxiety to skyrocket to another level, stunned still.

He should probably do something, right? Right.

But he really did not know what to do exactly.

“Those were my songs! And you stole them!”

Bobby seemed done with the conversation, scoffing. “Yeah, right. Still shouting lies, Patterson?” Shaking his head, he began to walk away, perhaps believing it better to separate before anything could get worse. That is what Bobby had always been, the diffuser of tension. The mild manner one, little passion or malice in his armory.

But apparently Luke was having none of it. Nostrils flaring, mouth twisted into a grim pout, and hands fisted at his sides, Luke Patterson was not going to let this matter die easily.

In a flash, he leapt on Bobby’s retreating back, piggybacking on him and trapping the taller boy in a sloppy headlock.

“Hey get off me, Luke!”

Bobby stumbled, the two almost falling flat on to the floor.

Huffing, he shook his shoulders, attempting to get Luke off of him. But the boy hung on, wrapping himself up on their former-friend and bandmate like a clingy monkey.

“You asshole!” Luke grunted. He licked his index finger and shoved the digit into Bobby’s ear. A classic Luke Patterson wet willie.

“ _Ack_! Gross!” Bobby attempted to swat at Luke, only to stumble more to the left, closer to the lip of the stage. “Why you gotta do that— _argh_!”

Rain began to pelt harder from the sky, the water becoming Bobby and Luke’s mutual enemy. With less grace or stability, the older boy shuffled, before his Converse sneaker clad foot slipped out from under him.

As one chaotic jumble, the two boys fell to the ground.

Bobby in a painful knee to torse slide and Luke…

He fell off Bobby and stumbled face first towards the edge of the stage.

“Dude!” Alex finally uttered, ready to rush towards his friend.

But Luke caught himself before he could slip further to the ground. Hair sopping wet and face marred with a bright red bruise, Luke stood up, glaring hard at Bobby.

Just as he was about to charge to the other boy, still fuming with pulsing anger, a hand grabbed him by the shoulder. “Ay, cut it out!”

Crap. Ray was there.

And not happy.

**~*~**

“So…yeah.” Alex gave a small shrug. “That’s what I saw, okay? I’m sorry I didn’t intervene sooner or…” He shook his head. “Not that it matters.”

He glanced at Luke’s bruise and winced.

“It wasn’t your job to intervene,” Ray assured him, not wanting the boy to be filled with guilt. His eyes flickered to Luke. “Why did you even go to Bobby? And why did you talk with him if you knew it wouldn’t be civil?”

“Because he’s a lie and a cheat,” Luke spat, not regretting an ounce of his actions. “I didn’t even mean to talk to him. We literally bumped into each other and one thing led to another and—”

**~*~**

“What the hell are you doing here?” Luke eyed his former friend up and down. “Aren’t you above gigs like this?”

He was just trying to find Alex. Maybe tease him a little about Willie. He caught sight of his best friend’s soon-to-hopefully-be boyfriend out in the crowd, shouting the loudest. He wanted to be front row and center on one of the greatest love stories of their lifetime.

But then he collided with a douchebag’s leather jacket and it took three milliseconds to realize the douchebag in question was the biggest douchebag he knew—Bobby.

“Really, Patterson?” Bobby dragged out, smug indifference on his face. “Music is music. I like some of the bands here.”

“You knew we were playing,” Luke’s eyes narrowed. A few people bumped past him, the crowd shoulder to shoulder and shuffling closer to the front as another band began their set. “Here to try to steal more songs?”

Bobby’s face flushed. His lips twisted down in a sharp frown. “Let it go man. It’s been months and it’s not like those songs were good anyways. You can write plenty more—”

“Seriously!” Luke stepped back, jaw dropping as he tried to fathom what he was hearing. “You don’t even feel sorry? Not even the littlest bit?”

When Bobby didn’t say anything, Luke felt the dagger in his back plunge deeper.

A scoff of disbelief escape Luke, he shaking his head repeatedly because maybe—maybe this wasn’t happening. This situation wasn’t happening at all. “We wrote those songs together. As a band. And you just up and take my journal—”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Then tell me what it was like!” Luke bit out. “Because one day were talking about a potential gig at the Orpheum—one we’ve been begging for, had to cash in all our favors, and then suddenly it’s the last week of school and you’re just gone! And then you’re viral and—”

“It was an accident okay?” Bobby breathed out, hunching lower. As though to hide his words. “I didn’t mean to use the band’s songs. It’s just…a record label liked my guitar work and wanted to see if I had anything original and…and I played one of our songs. And you left the journal in my car, so….” His eyes screwed shut. “What am I supposed to do, Luke?”

“I don’t know! Maybe tell the truth! Like a decent person!” Luke’s hands fisted at his side, attempting to do the heavy breathing Ms. Frances recommended to do when he was overwhelmed. But it wasn’t really working at the moment. “I was your best friend and you betrayed me! Do you know what it feels like to have all your hard-work ripped away from you?”

“Luke—”

“And not even know it! I had to find out on Twitter. Freaking Twitter!”

Bobby shoved his floppy, wannabe-emo hair from his face, looking away from Luke. He could feel eyes landing on them, staring with interest.

“I get it, Luke. It sucks.”

“It more than sucks! We lost everything—all of the opportunities because you took our chance away! You do not do that to friends. You don’t do that to family!”

Bobby’s uncomfortable frown melted into a sardonic grin. “Don’t be trying to make us out to be more than we were, Patterson. I was just the rhythm guitarist.”

_What the hell did that mean?_ “What—what,” Luke shook his head, Bobby’s words throwing him for a loop, “what are you talking about?”

“It was always— _always_ —the Luke, Reggie, and Alex show. I was the fourth wheel. Just the guy you needed to make the music sound fuller. I didn’t matter to you guys—”

“That’s not true—”

“It is!” Bobby roared. “It is,” he repeated, embarrassment flashing across his face. “I was the rehearsal space because my parents didn’t care what I did. Not like yours. Or Alex’s. I was always the afterthought. Always invited over last minute for movie night; never had a say in what we watched. Always told an hour later you guys went out for pizza after a gig. I was the guy in the background, even in our friendship, and I was sick of it.”

Memories of them together as Sunset Curve flickered through Luke’s mind. Bobby was wrong. He had to be wrong. They included him. Luke was sure of it. Bobby was one of his closest friends, for crying out loud! Luke was the only one willing to befriend him during middle school summer band camp when it got out Bobby was held back a year in fifth grade because of poor grades.

Luke tried to make Bobby involved; it was not his fault if his old friend never wanted to hang out.

“And then once Julie started hanging around more because…” He at least looked apologetic as he danced around the ‘Julie’s mom is dead’ situation, “the mom thing…and Carrie was trying to be a good friend by letting her hang around like old times, I knew it was over.”

“What was over?”

“The band, dude.” Bobby looked at him like he was the biggest idiot to walk on the planet. “You literally dropped everything when she walked into the room. You let her sit in on rehearsals. Whenever she looked the tiniest bit sad, more than usual, you’d call off rehearsal early to just hang out with her!”

“Because her mom died, dipshit,” Luke spat. “And she needed all the friends she could get because hate to break it to you, but you Wilsons suck at comforting people.”

“Yeah, it has nothing to do with the fact you’ve liked her since forever,” Bobby shot back with no mercy. “And never could get up the nerve to talk to her or be her friend until she was sad and vulnerable—”

“Leave Julie out of this!” Luke shoved Bobby’s chest. “She has nothing to do with this!”

“Dude, you went all John Lennon on us, and you didn’t even know it!”

“Shut up!” He shoved Bobby again but being taller apparently was on the other guy’s side. Damn being five foot eight! It felt far shorter than it should be!

“I saw an out and I took it,” Bobby told him blankly, still no sign of remorse in his words. “That just makes me a survivor.”

Thunder rattled from above, rain starting to pelt from the sky. Some people scurried away while others remained rooted in their spot, catching some of the argument transpiring between Luke and Bobby.

If they wanted a show, then damn it, Luke would give them a show.

“This about the songs. Nothing else.”

“No, this is about everything,” Bobby said, voice low and full of…hurt. Like he had any right to be hurt!

Buzzing with anger, Luke tried his best to get his footing back in the conversation, to remind Bobby who had the upper hand here. “Those were my songs! And you stole them!”

“Yeah, right. Still shouting lies, Patterson?” Bobby scoffed, walking away.

Enough was enough.

Luke leapt on to Bobby’s back, jumping into the point of no return.

**~*~**

“I hate him.”

Lydia winced. “Hate is a strong word.”

“I do,” Luke assured her, “I hate him, Mrs. Bennet.”

“Okay.” She nodded once, realizing maybe now was not the time to get some feelings other than anger out of Luke.

“Just because you hate him, doesn’t mean you start a fight. At a gig of all places,” Ray reprimanded, recalling how he had to pull away a sopping wet and fuming Luke from Bobby before anything could get too out of hand.

Luke slumped in on himself, pressing the cold pack firmer on the right side of his face. “I just wish he wasn’t such a jerk.”

“We cannot change how people act, _mijo_ ,” Ray told him, setting aside his own aggravation towards the boy to address the matters of the heart. “I know he hurt you,” he glanced at the other two boys, “he hurt all of you. It is not fair and it’s not right. I wish there were more we could do about the situation.”

“But my journal and the sheet music were the only copies I had. And they were in _his_ car, and are now _his_ ,” Luke said, the explanation reiterated over and over again over the last year. “There is nothing we can do to claim them. Not even emails.”

“I know. We know.” Ray’s words did little to comfort the boy, Luke looking more and more miserable by the second. His eyes darted to the rest of the band. “Is that all that happened tonight? A fight? Some odd offerings from bands and agents? Nothing else? Nothing else I need to be worried about?”

The four shook their head.

“Besides the fact we are banned from Monster Mash for forever?” Reggie added.

All three of his bandmates glared at him.

“What?” He mumbled, not seeing the problem. “That one feels like a pretty big detail to add to the list.”

Wiping his face, Ray sighed. The Lord was testing his energy and patience that night; it would be a miracle if nothing else transpired of this never-ending Halloween. “All of you go get cleaned up and ready for bed. If you need to, use the studio bathroom.”

For once the kids did not seem up for an argument, all too exhausted. Without needing anymore prompting, Julie hurried along up the stairs before anyone else, Luke watching her like a kicked puppy.

_Ay, dios mios_. What was he going to do with those two?

Once she was gone, Luke began to make his way to the studio, bypassing Ray.

“I’ll call your mom, Luke—”

“It’s okay. I can text her,” he assured Ray, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Don’t worry about it.”

Ray was not convinced. Luke had been a little off the last few days. He chalked it up to the recent events concerning Alex. All the kids had been on edge, but Luke…he seemed to be more reserved than usual.

As much as Ray wanted to press the matter, he knew now was the not the best time.

Reggie was quick to follow after Luke…Only to walk back to Ray, his bruised friend just out of an earshot. The boy’s eyes shined with a hint of gratitude despite his damp and disheveled appearance.

“Uh, thanks Ray. For stopping Luke. And for being there. We really need you sometimes, so it’s really nice you are there. Even when you don’t have to be.” He gave a small smile, as though still stunned Ray was around at all. “Yeah, just…thank you.”

A warmth gripped at Ray’s chest. The night had been terrible. Yes. Absolutely terrible once his kids’ band hopped off the stage. But this…Reggie knowing he was there and knowing he could rely on him…this was worth it. “Of course, _mijo_.”

Beaming up at him, Reggie nodded dopily to himself. “Alright then. I need to take a shower because I think the fake fur is starting to become one with my real hair.”

“Go. Now.” Ray waved him off, Reggie heading down the familiar path to the studio.

Which left—

“If it’s alright, Alex, can we talk?” Lydia asked her son, who sat at his lonesome at the dining room table. He looked smaller without the rest of the band flanking his sides. Just a mere boy, tired physically, mentally, and emotionally. He did not need the band’s chaos weighing down on him when he had his own problems to combat.

One problem being the mother who sat before him.

Ray turned to take his leave out of the dining room, hoping to give the mother and son some privacy.

“Oh, Ray,” Lydia called, a bit startled at his attempted exit, “please stay. I’d like you here.” She glanced to Alex, a soft and broken smile gracing her lips. “I think we both do.”

Eyes darting between Alex and Lydia, trying his best to read the room, Ray made his decision. “Sure,” he uttered, and sat in the vacated seat across from the Bennets.

Alex seemed to relax at his presence, shoulders loosening.

“Alex, honey,” Lydia reached for her son’s hands, “I need you to know I’m not going to send you away. Ever. What your dad was saying…” She blinked, overcome with emotion, but kept her tears at bay, “…I am against a hundred percent.”

“I know, Mom,” he mumbled. “I heard you guys. But that doesn’t mean anything—”

“It means I am going to do whatever it takes to protect you,” Lydia interjected before Alex could fall into anymore doubts. “You will _always_ be my child. And as much as I hate to say this, spouses and partners can come and go, but you will always be my son. Charlie will always be my daughter, and you two and your wellbeing comes first.”

“But Dad—”

“I’ll handle your father,” she told him point blank. “In the meantime, since he keeps pushing this boarding school thing, we’ll move out.”

Alex’s head snapped up. “What?”

Lydia seemed undeterred by her decision. “You, me, and Charlie will move out. You don’t feel at home in the house and I know it’s because your dad is just…” Her eyes snapped closed, her free hand rubbing at her forehead. “I love him sweetheart, but sometimes I really don’t like him. Like now. And sometimes love for each other just isn’t enough. Especially when you fundamentally disagree.”

“I…I don’t want to be the reason you and Dad separate—”

“You’re not.” She pushed back a stray, wet gauze away from his forehead. “Trust me, you’re not. This is just the last straw in a very,” she gave an empty, sardonic chuckle, “very _long_ list of grievances.”

“But I still feel like I’m the reason and everyone will think I’m the reason.” Alex shot up from his chair, stumbling out of it. “This doesn’t feel right. We can still be a family—”

“Alex, honey—” Lydia reached for him, but he was stepping away. “Please, just listen.”

She looked over at Ray for help, as though he could do something. Anything.

“Mijo, maybe…maybe hear your mother out,” Ray said, feeling out of place but knowing Alex would maybe listen to him. He always had in the past. The boy opened up to him before his parents, there was that connect there—trust.

Alex did not sit back down, but he stood behind his chair and did not roam any further.

“Nothing is your fault,” Lydia told her son, meaning every word. “You did nothing wrong. If anyone is wrong here, it’s me. I…I should have been better—I don’t know how but I should have been, and…this is new to me,” she stood up, standing before her son, meeting his downcast stare, “I still have a lot to learn. I know I do. I want to be here for you. Even if it means I have to read every single LGBTQ+ book in the world, or march with you at every rally and parade. I want to be your mother, don’t ever doubt that.”

Alex inhaled shakily, hands gripping the back of the chair in a white-knuckle grip. “But Dad…”

“I cannot change how your father thinks,” Lydia said, defeated, “I cannot change how he puts his reputation and the church first. I can’t, I’ve tried. That’s his own issue. He knows that. And it’s not that he doesn’t love you, Alex. He does, even if he’s not great at showing it or…or knows how. He just…he loves the church more than us sometimes. But that doesn’t make it right.”

“So…so he just doesn’t want me to be seen by others? Because of his reputation?” Alex asked, voice cracking. “That’s why he wants to send me to the other side of the country? To hide me.”

Lydia didn’t say anything. Her silence was answer enough.

“He can’t hide me. I’m a person, not some…some object or…” He shook his head, floundering. “He can’t do that.”

“I’m not going to let him,” Lydia assured him, her voice stern and unmoving. “I’m not. That’s why we’ll move out—"

“But I don’t want to be the reason you and Dad separate,” Alex insisted. “What about Charlie? She wouldn’t understand what’s going on—Dad probably doesn’t even want me around her.” A shaky exhale rattled through him, Alex ducking his head down and away from both Lydia and Ray’s concerned eyes. “I’ll move out and you can stay with Dad.”

“Alex! No—”

“I’m almost eighteen,” he began to reason, attempting to find the logic in his solution. “I have saved up all my money—”

“For when you and the band go on your mini west coast tour this summer,” his mom reminded him, upset he even brough up the idea of him using his savings.

“Then I’ll get another after school job, find an apartment—”

“Alex, I am your mother; I will take care of you. You need to stop talking like this—”

“I am trying to fix this so everyone is happy—”

“Except you, honey! You won’t be happy! You are still a kid; you deserve to still act like one—”

“Mom, _please_ , just let me—

“Alex—”

“He can move in here.”

The words left Ray’s mouth before he could stop himself.

“What?” Lydia uttered, stunned.

“Alex can…live here,” Ray repeated, a bit slower and fully comprehending what he was saying this go around. “You don’t want Alex around Samuel or vice versa, and you don’t want him to live on his own and he doesn’t want you to move out because of Charlie.”

“Ray…” Lydia blinked, eyes watering. “I…I cannot ask you to do something like that.”

“Good thing you are not asking, and I am offering.” He shrugged, warming up to the idea the longer he thought it over. “You’d only be ten, maybe fifteen minutes away. You can come over whenever you want, to see Alex. Or if Charlie wants to see Alex.” Lydia’s pensive gaze on him caused Ray’s throat to constrict, feeling maybe his offer wasn’t a welcomed one after all. Coughing once, he cleared his throat and considered his next words carefully. “I am in no way trying to offend you or your family—I am only offering because I care about Alex,” Ray told her in earnest, his eyes darting between the mother and son. “He’s like another son to me and I want to help in whichever way possible. If…if you’ll allow me.”

Silence sat over the three for a moment, the idea ruminating.

Ray made valid points. The Bennets did not live far, and it’d prevent either Lydia or Alex doing something drastic. Alex would be in a home he knew well; of course, it’d be a little different considering he’d live there and would not simply be ‘Julie’s friend.’ But that would be inevitable growing pains if they decided to move forward with the offer.

And Reggie got along fine.

“I suppose it’s a decent compromise,” Lydia finally said, gaze locked on her son. “What do you think, Alex?”

Hesitant, the boy lifted his head, his eyes latching on to Ray. “Do you really mean it? That I’m like another son?” He swallowed tightly. “Like family?”

“Yes,” Ray answered with no inkling of hesitance. “I do care. I want you to feel comfortable and at home wherever you decide to live.”

Blinking furiously, Alex swallowed. “That means a lot Mr. Molina.” The worry etched on his face ceased, a calmness resting over him. “I’d like that. To move in. If it’s okay with you.”

“It’s perfectly fine by me.”

A relieved exhaled escaped Alex, the tension easing off him. His eyes landed on his mother. “Mom, I—”

She wrapped him in her arms.

Ray looked away.

He shouldn’t be here. Not now. His part was done.

Quietly, he stood up and left the dining room.

Neither Alex nor Lydia noticed.

* * *

Rose loved the rain.

Once upon a time, she’d coax him out into the downpour. Singing him a song as they twirled and splashed into the puddles. He’d follow her lead in a heartbeat, a young fool in love and willing to do anything to please the woman he adored.

(He tried not to think of another boy who’d follow a similarly curly haired girl to the ends of the Earth…)

She’d always end up with a small cold, but his Rose did not mind.

_“Some experiences are worth the pain!”_ she’d giggle into her piping hot licorice tea.

As the cancer became more aggressive, their dancing in the rain ceased. However, they’d spend rainy nights out on the porch steps, watching the droplets gather and separate. Together then apart. Becoming anew with each and every drip.

_“That’s how you’ll be when I’m gone_ ,” she told him once, resting her head against his shoulder. “ _We’ll dibble apart, and you’ll merge with someone else to become something new. But I’ll always be there,”_ she added with a grin. _“Even if you can’t see it_.”

_“You make it sound so simple and lovely._ ” She made everything sound simple and lovely. That was just Rose’s way. _“Life without you will be far more complicated than that.”_

They’d sit for hours. Not saying a word. Almost lost in a world of their own.

For a moment Ray let himself believe it was him and Rose out on the porch together. She somehow there with him, listening to the gentle patter of rain.

Hence his startled jump when he felt another body sit down near him.

“Oh—I’m sorry,” Lydia exhaled, clutching a hand to her chest, “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just…” she shook her head down, at a loss on how to explain herself, “I just thought I’d join you for some fresh air.” She checked her slim wristwatch. “Fresh air… at two in the morning. That’s when you know it’s been a hell of a night.”

Ray found himself chuckling. Maybe delirious chuckling: at this point he wasn’t too sure.

But soon he stopped, left with an uncomfortable silence.

What did one say to the mother of a child you were now taking into your household? Especially when he considered her somewhat a family friend. He and Lydia were never particularly close, but she had been a friend of Rose’s in their youth, the women re-connecting in adulthood at a PTA event nearly seven years ago. It was unfortunate Rose never got to see Julie and Alex truly become close friends despite being within each other’s orbit for years.

She’d been part of the dinner rotation their neighborhood put together after Rose’s passing. Attended a chemo session or two when he or Victoria had conflicting work schedules.

She tried to be a good person. At least that’s what he presumed about her.

He simply never pictured her—the one with seemingly perfect husband, kids, house—to be cracking around the edges, because that’s what she looked like when she came charging towards him at Monster Mash. Finding him and rambling how it is was her fault that Alex ran away, even though she knew he’d be at the concert, and claiming she was failing at well…everything.

Perhaps Lydia was where Alex got his unbearable guilt and feverish need to fix things on his own.

“You’re a good man, Ray,” Lydia said, apparently also finding the silence between a little odd. “Better than most men.” She picked at the skin around her nails, not looking at him, but at the flooding flowerbed across the yard. “Better than most people. I could never do what you are doing for me. For Alex.”

“Like I said I care for him.”

“Thank you,” came her quiet reply, the rain almost drowning out her words. “For caring about, him. He needs someone like you caring about him.”

Ray hummed in acknowledgement. He did not know what to do with these compliments. He’d never been one to well receive praise.

Clearing her throat, Lydia sat taller. “I promise this is temporary,” she continued. “Once I figure out what to do with Samuel,” she scoffed at her husband’s name, rubbing at her eyes. “Because I am really making this up as I go.”

“Most of us are.” Ray’s lips twitched down, thinking of how all the grief books and parenting self-help he read never prepared him for anything he faced with Julie and Carlos after Rose’s death. Nothing helped him prepare for Julie losing her passion for music, or Carlos deep diving into the world of paranormal. But he listened, was patient, and loved them fiercely. That’s all he could do.

“I thought being my son’s best friend was the best way to not screw up this parenting thing,” she confessed. “I wasn’t going to be like my parents who kept me at arm’s length at all times, and never got to know me as a person. I was going to know my son, know him the best out of anyone. He and I were joint at the hip from the beginning of time and then suddenly he’s sixteen and doesn’t want to hang out with mom anymore or go see some bad rom-com at the five dollar movie theater like we’d do every Sunday after church.” She dropped her chin into her hands. “And now it feels like I know everything and nothing about him. I just don’t want to lose him by us doing this.”

She didn’t sound like she was on the verge of tears.

Lydia sounded worse; defeated.

Ray lifted his hand, only to hesitate.

He hadn’t held a woman’s hand since Rose.

But he did not know how else to comfort Lydia.

So, he rested his hand on top of hers and gave a small pat of assurance. Brief, to the point, and his hand right back at his side seconds later. Friendly. Supportive.

“You won’t lose him,” Ray said, recalling how Alex hugged his mother back in the dining room. “He loves you too much to let you go. Like you said, this is temporary. Until…” he paused not sure what to say.

Was Lydia going to leave Samuel? Divorce him? Try to coax them all into family therapy? There was more to the story between the Bennets, Lydia alluding to such disfunction.

Lifting her downturned face, she did not look either relieved or upset. Just stuck at a standstill.

“Thank you again, Ray.” She stood from her spot on the step, readjusting her tote purse over her shoulder. “I’ll be over in the morning with some of Alex’s belongings and we can talk more about this in detail, I suppose once we’ve both had some rest.” She held a handout to him. “Here’s to…co-parenting.”

Inwardly wincing, Ray shook her hand. Small, warm—

He released her hand like it was on fire. “Have a good night,” he told her curt, harsher than he intended.

“Good night,” he heard her mumble, a bit surprised by his abruptness.

Ray stood up and left for inside, closing the front door behind him. A sharp breath shuddered out of him once the door was shut and locked, he waiting to catch his bearings.

What was wrong with him? It was just a little handshake.

“Hmmm,” Victoria peaked her head from the stairs around the corner, eyes wide and mouth pulling into an all too gleeful smirk, “that was interesting.”

“I thought you went home,” Ray said in greeting, passing her as he went to the kitchen. “Don’t you have mass tomorrow?”

“The church has afternoon mass,” Victoria waved off, following after him like a lion on the prey, “but this—this is far more important.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” Ray opened the refrigerator, grabbing the Brita.

“You _so_ know!” Victoria hissed, hands planted on the kitchen counter, eyes alight with excitement. “You have that same look you had when I introduced you to Rose!”

Ignoring Victoria, he picked up a glass from the drying rack by the sink and poured himself water. “I still don’t know what you are talking about, _comadre_.”

“The way _she_ ,” Victoria pointed wildly at the front door, “was looking at _you_ ,” she waved to all of Ray, “and how _you_ ,” another wave to Ray, “were looking at _her_ ,” another point to the door, “was--!” Victoria waved to her dropped jaw, miming a silent scream. “I could feel tension! Like a freaking telenovela! Like our stories!”

“You are imagining things,” Ray insisted. “Lydia is married, and I am still grieving.”

“Ugh,” Victoria shook her head, leaning against the counter for support. “Based off of what I heard tonight, ‘Mrs.’ is going to become a ‘Miss’ in no time and _hermano_ ,” his sister-in-law turned serious, daring him to challenge her, “you’re going to have to eventually…ya know,” she titled her head side to side, “…move on.” She gave a sad shrug. “As much as I wanted you and my sister to be together forever, we’re living in this now, without her. And I don’t think she’d want you to spend the rest of your years alone.”

“I’m not alone,” Ray corrected, “I have mi familia. Julie, Carlos, you,” he listed off, “and the boys. I’m perfectly fine.”

Victoria did not seem convinced.

“All I am saying is, as your sister-in-law, you have my blessing to date because you, out of all people, deserve to be happy.”

“Thank you.”

“And you deserve to get laid every once in a while, because I am starting to notice the difference—”

“Goodbye, Victoria,” Ray stated pointedly.

She held her hands up in defense. “Alright. _Buenos Noches._ See you Monday. I am bringing you more coffee. You’re running out again.”

“It’s all the boys in the house. They live off of caffeine.”

She tsked, grabbing her coat and purse from the living room. “Tell them to slow their roll! Good night!”

The sound of the front door opening and closing told Ray he was finally alone.

Glancing up at the ceiling, his brief smile morphed into a frown. “Your sister is seeing things, mi amor,” he told Rose, tipping his glass up to her. “You’re a tough act to follow.”

He swore he could hear Rose’s laugh in the pitter-patter of the rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG SO MUCH HAPPENED. 
> 
> LET'S HAVE A RECAP!
> 
> \- The band performed and Julie got oddly really dehydrated, and she received an offer to join a girl band.  
> \- Reggie is still Reggie, and Carrie is still Carrie, but it looks like they both want to be Reggie+Carrie OMG  
> \- CALEB IS HERE. AHHHHHHH. AND ALSO MADE THE BOYS AN OFFER. AHHHH. AND ALSO FREAKED ALEX OUT. AHHHH.  
> \- LUKE AND BOBBY GOT INTO A FIGHT THAT WAS KIND OF LAME BUT DID ANYONE EXPACT ANYTHING LESS? NO.  
> \- Alex is moving in! AHHH.  
> \- And so much MORE I CANNOT RECAP IT ALL.
> 
> Anyways....scream at me in the comments! I welcome it :D


	12. Being Julie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A JULIE CHAPTER. YAY. 
> 
> Way shorter than the last chapter, like less than half the length lol.
> 
> Typos will be fixed later! Enjoy :D

* * *

Day Twelve of ‘Living with Alex and Reggie’ was Day ‘I SWEAR I AM GOING TO SCREAM AND RIP MY HAIR OUT’ in Julie’s eyes.

Because. She. Had. Zero. Privacy.

Because the boys always were looking for a time to jam out.

Because they’d pop into her room while she was working on homework or reading or doing literally anything, and think it’d be cool to drop themselves on her bed and start chilling with her.

Not that Julie didn’t mind the chilling. She didn’t.

But she minded the chilling when Alex and Reggie were down to chill _twenty-four-seven._

Because she swear if she had to go to the restroom and find a pair of Reggie’s boxers or Alex’s used towels on the floor, she was going to grab them and set a fire (a nice, controlled fire in a trash can, because _HELLO SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA_ always seemed be on fire) in the backyard.

Because Julie needed a break.

She was in need of a major break because she was positive being exhausted all the time and dead on her feet wasn’t normal in the slight.

And then there was _Luke_.

Luke, who she cared for deeply, never going home. At least not until he stayed for almost a third day straight and her dad called Mrs. Patterson and of course, Luke went trudging home.

And while Julie would love to hang out with Luke _any time_ of the day, she honestly did not want to hang out with Luke _all times_ of the day.

She’d be fine if she didn’t see him—or really any of them—for two weeks.

A Phantom Detox.

Two weeks away from the jumping, bumbling musical idiots. Two weeks to breath and maybe sleep more than a couple of hours and maybe finally catch up on homework.

That is what Julie truly needed. But how the hell did one go about telling their bandmates/friends/brethren(?) she needed to be alone.

They’d think she was closing up again, reverting back to ‘Depressed Julie.’ Her dad would call her therapist and then it would be an entire ordeal on how to make her ‘happy’ and Julie didn’t want the fuss.

She wanted nothing, but silence and alone time—

“Hey, Julie. When you put in the toilet paper, is it waterfall or—”

“ _GET OUT_!”

Whirling around to her bed she threw a pillow at Reggie.

The frilly mess bounced off of Reggie’s chest, his eyes blown wide. “Whoa! That was insane!” He then glanced down at the toilet paper roll in his hand. “But that still doesn’t answer my question—”

“Ugh!” Julie leapt off her bed and snatched the toilet paper from Reggie. In a flurry, she marched past Reggie and down the hall to the bathroom. She flung open the door.

“Hey!” Alex cried out, clutching his hair brush to his chest for dear life. He was still in his pajamas (kitty patterned) despite the day being well past the morning. “I’m doing my hair in here!”

“I don’t care!” She snapped back. Stopping in front of the toilet roll dispenser. “Both of you, eyes here!”

Reggie and Alex stood at attention, brows furrowed.

“This!” She waved the toilet paper up in the air. “Get’s replaced every single time it is out, and— _and_ ,” she pointed the roll towards Reggie, “it always goes waterfall. Always!” She snapped the toilet roll into place. “I never want to be asked this question again!”

Nodding to the two, now very frightened boys, Julie left the bathroom.

Normally she wouldn’t loose her cool so fast, but this was the third— _the third!—_ time Reggie asked the question about the toilet paper and she knew he wasn’t always paying attention, often lost in his own world, but questions like that were getting ridiculous.

She needed a break. ASAP.

Upon entering her room, she grabbed a duffle bag and began throwing in some clothes and books, double checking she included her school work. Once she was done, she zipped up her bag, picked up her phone, and hurried down the stairs as she shot off a quick text to Flynn.

**_ Julie aka ‘the GOAT’  _ ** **_(2:45PM)_ **

**_Super short notice but I’m coming over._ **

****

****

** FLYNN RYDER **

**Girl**

**What happened.**

**DETAILS.**

**NOW.**

“ _Mija_ , what’s the rush?” her dad called out from the dinning room.

Halfway to the front door, Julie froze.

Shoot. She didn’t think her dad was around.

He’d been MIA due to work, Carlos’ baseball practices and games, and then there was—

“Julie! I thought you and the boys would be working on homework together.” Lydia Bennet—aka Mrs. Bennet or as Reggie liked to call her, Mama Lydia—peeked around the corner. She looked…tired, dark bags under her eyes and all-too-forced smile. But Mrs. Bennet looked tired all the time whenever she dropped by, mostly to check in on Alex, who was all to happy to hangout and see his mom; or she’d pick Alex up to have a mother-son-and-daughter date with him and Charlie.

But main point: Lydia Bennet was around at least a couple of times a week, and Julie didn’t like it.

“Um, Flynn and I have a project to work on,” Julie answered the unspoken question. She rounded back around, coming into the dining room, where her father and Mrs. Bennet seemed to sitting together and having… _tea_?

Ray Molina hated tea. He drank some whenever her mother put on the kettle because he knew it was better for him than a sixth or seventh cup of _cafecito,_ but he hadn’t touched the stuff since…

Since before Mom.

The little fact niggled Julie right under the ribs.

_Ugh_.

“Going to spend the night?” her father asked, giving a quick glance to her bag.

“Yeah,” Julie fiddled with the thick strap of the bag, ducking her head down a little lower, “thought we could get some work done and then have a girl’s night. Face masks, doing each other’s nails…” she trailed off, pointedly leaving out ‘talking about how much I want to strangle the boys because they are getting on my last nerve.’

But she couldn’t tell her dad that. He loved the boys. The house was full of laughter, joy, the boys bring a healthy dose of chaos in her father’s life; this was the happiest she’d seen her dad in forever. Telling him how she really felt with all these immediate changes wouldn’t bode well.

“Alright,” her dad smiled, “do you want me to drive you—”

“I’ll walk,” Julie was already taking a couple of steps back. “I can use the fresh air.”

Both her father and Mrs. Bennet frowned, their gazes darting to the French doors leading to the back yard.

Rain pelted against the window pane, sure and steady in the downpour. Damn November rains. She could never catch a break.

“You know what?” Lydia announced, setting her tea cup down. “I need to get going. I can drop you off at Flynn’s on the way.”

A stubbornness spiked through Julie. “It’s okay. I can take an umbrella—”

“Honey, it really is no problem,” Lydia stood up, taking her cup to the sink. “I don’t want you to go walking in the rain and catch a cold.”

Chewing hard on the inside of her cheek, Julie tried her best to remain pleasant at the term ‘Honey.’

She never had problem with Mrs. Bennet calling her ‘Honey’ before. Phrases like that were often speckled in the woman’s conversations; not once belittling, but a genuine term of endearment. To be honest, Julie felt glee the first time Mrs. Bennet called her ‘Honey’ or ‘Sweetie’ or ‘Kiddo’; mostly because she wanted her new friend’s parents to like her even if she already knew Mrs. Bennet in passing. Who could blame a lonesome girl wanting to be wanted?

But for some reason the term now rubbed Julie the wrong way.

“Um…” Her eyes drifted to her dad, who seemed puzzled by her adamant determination to walk in the rain. “I…sure! I’d appreciate that, Mrs. Bennet.”

“You can call me ‘Lydia.’” She waved off, grabbing her jacket from the back of the dining chair. “‘Mrs. Bennet’ sounds so stuffy.”

Julie did not want to call her Lydia. She didn’t want to call her anything, _but_ Mrs. Bennet. Because that’s who she was—

(Even though Julie knew, from Alex, that his parents were going to couples counseling and maybe— _just maybe_ —his parents were discussing a potential divorce. Which really sucked. Because Alex felt guilty even though everyone—literally everyone, even Carlos of all people, who was being a nosy little eavesdropper—told him nothing was his fault.

And if Mrs. Bennet was no longer Mrs. Bennet then she’d be ‘Lydia Maiden-Name’ and if she was ‘Lydia Maiden-Name’ then she could get a new last name and Julie didn’t want Lydia’s new last name to be anything rhyming with… _Paulina_ and beginning with an ‘M’ because…because…

It was too soon!)

“Are you sure you’re okay, _mija_?” her dad asked. “You look a little pale—”

“I’m fine!” She shook her head, eyes wide, a shrug jumbling out of her out of her own accord. “I don’t know why you think anything is wrong. I’m fine.”

He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t press the matter. “Alright…if you need anything, call me. Have fun at Flynn’s.”

Julie nodded in agreement, averting her eyes when her father and Mrs. Bennet muttered their awkward goodbyes.

“I’ll drop by later this week. Charlie has been missing Alex.”

“Yes, that sounds good. Good. You two can stay for dinner.”

“I can bring something. Maybe take-out?”

“That sounds nice.”

Julie refrained an eyeroll, and kept her mouth screwed shut. Everything always sounded ‘nice’ or ‘good’ whenever Mrs. Bennet suggested it, like the extended vocabular portion of Dad’s brain shut off whenever the woman was around.

He never use to be like that.

“Then I’ll make sure to pencil it in.”

“I’m sure you have plenty to do, so if you can’t—”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

At this point, Julie was positive she wanted to barf her breakfast.

“Ready to go?” Mrs. Bennet turned to Julie, smile bright and welcoming.

“Yeah,” Julie edged out, deciding to head towards the door without Mrs. Bennet’s or her father’s prompting. She didn’t bother to check if Mrs. Bennet followed; Julie felt her presence a mere couple of feet away. These days she seemed to hyper aware of Lydia and where she was in the house. Julie tried to shrug it off as a bout of anxiety, but her gut lurch reactions told her otherwise.

Upon leaving the house, the downpour began to reach a steady pace. Not too light, not too heavy, but enough to make any Los Angeles native warry. Mrs. Bennet hurried Julie along to the car, both braving the rain without raincoats.

“So,” the woman began, once they were both in the car and heat blowing from the vents, “Flynn’s? It’s just down the street right? To the left?”

“Yup.” Julie gave one nod. “Not that far.”

“Great.” Her gentle, polite smile remained.

The brief car ride was in stilted silence. However, Mrs. Bennet’s constant side glances to Julie caused the girl’s annoyance to rise.

“So, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Mrs. Bennet turned on her single light, turning into Flynn’s cul-de-sac, “how’s it going living with the guys?”

Was this a trap? “Uh—”

“I only hear praises and good news from Alex,” Mrs. Bennet pulled off to the curb, parked a house away from Flynn’s, “but he does that. He really pushes the good news to not make anyone worry. But you can be honest with me.” She turned to Julie, hazel eyes wide and earnest. “Is he adjusting well? Are you adjusting well? Any fights?”

“Uh no, not really,” Julie answered, telling the truth. Sure the first couple of days Alex situated himself like an outsider, until Reggie had enough and something just _clicked_. She wasn’t sure what exactly clicked or happened or caused him to finally relax, but Alex’s hesitations melted away by the time day four rolled around. “He’s pretty comfortable. He and Reggie have way too fun sharing a room.”

The woman’s shoulders relaxed a tad at her comment. “Okay, good. If he seems good, then that’s good. And you?” she pressed again. “I’m sure being the only girl in a house full of guys isn’t the most fun situation in the world, but you’re okay?”

This woman was not going to let her catch break, was she?

“I’m fine,” Julie uttered, not in the mood for this forced heart-to-heart Lydia Bennet seemed determined to pull her into. “It’s fine.” Julie opened the car door before another question could be asked. She stumbled out, righting herself and her duffle bag in a flash. Without mercy, the rain began to dampen her shoulders, all the more reason to get out of this situation as soon as possible. “Thanks so much for the ride, Mrs. Bennet. Have a good day!”

She shut the door as Mrs. Bennet gave a small wave and goodbye seemingly on the tip of her tongue.

Darn it. Okay, maybe she did feel a little guilty about _that_.

* * *

“Don’t get me wrong, I love the guys! I do. But…”

“But they are still hyper puppy guys at the end of the day?” Flynn finished, not even looking up from her laptop. She’d been working on a new t-shirt design for the band (“The Halloween disaster inspired me!” “Glad it inspired someone.”) her free time spent perfecting the design before sending it off to a family friend who printed the t-shirts for half the cost they’d pay elsewhere, with the promise to provide exclusive tickets for _Julie and the Phantoms_ next gig as payment.

Flynn knew all the right people. Letting her take charge of PR and the band’s marketing was perhaps the wisest decision they ever made as a band.

Flopped lazily at the foot of the bed, Julie sighed. “Yeah.” She rolled to her stomach, looking down at the fuzzy, Sherpa rug on the floor. Lifting her arm, she brushed the back of her hand against the rug, the soft material feeling like buttery clouds at her touch. “I’m happy they are there. I am. I cannot imagine them going anywhere else. Because…because then Reggie wouldn’t be around and Alex would try his best to be around but also be falling apart at the seams…” Her head lulled to the side, lifting ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of Flynn at the head of the bed. “They’re family. They really are, but I don’t want them around all the time. Does that make me a bad friend?”

Flynn snorted. “Girl, that makes you human.” She picked up her coffee from her bedside table, taking a long sip as though to bask in her impending genius. “Do you think women are meant to be around that many men at one time with no sign of escape? No!” She blinked stunned by the thought. “Sisterhood exists for a reason! You’re not a bad friend for needing space or an escape from the guys.” She set down her coffee and picked up one of her many fluffy throw pillows.

In a flash the soft yet offending object whacked Julie on the back of her head. “Hey!

“Never ever think you are a bad friend, okay? Those guys are lucky to have you and your feelings,” she tossed another pillow, missing Julie’s head by a hair, “are valid! In less than two months two dudes moved into your house and now you are sharing a restroom with them. You have every right to feel the way you feel!”

Burring her smile into the mattress, a dash of weight lifted off her shoulders. Flynn was right. Her feelings were valid, however valid feelings did nothing to solve the problem at hand.

“But how do I even ask for privacy and space? Do I say ‘Hey guys, can you just leave me alone today?’”

Flynn shrugged one shoulder and returned to her work. “Yeah.”

Julie shot up, alarmed by Flynn’s blunt agreement. “What do you mean ‘yeah’?”

“Yeah,” Flynn drawled out, “you tell them how you feel. You say what you need.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.” Perhaps realizing this conversation needed to be addressed head on, Flynn shut her laptop and faced Julie with a stern, compassionate eyes. “Girl, you cannot feel guilty or bad about needing space or for asking for what you want. You are always working on music, and when you are not working on music you are finishing homework, and when you aren’t working on homework, you are helping one of the boys with their never ending list of problems and hijinks.” Flynn gave a good-natured eyeroll, but it did little to soften the reality of her words. “You go a thousand miles a minute. All the time. Soon enough you’re going to have to pump the breaks and stop, whether you want to or not.”

Holding on to a small pillow, Julie avoided her best friend’s laser stare. “But I can’t stop. So much is going on and everyone needs me.”

Dropped her hands on Julie’s shoulder, Flynn met her dead in the eye. “Jules, I’m afraid you are about to hit a burnout. And it’s not going to be pretty.”

Julie frowned, leaning away from Flynn. “I know what a burnout is. I’m not heading towards a burnout—”

“Yeah, you are,” Flynn argued, “you are already in the denial stage.”

“Denial?”

“Yup,” Flynn hummed in disappointment, “you are already at the boiling point and you don’t want to admit it. You always have an excuse for you exhaustion and you are spreading yourself too thin.”

“No.” Julie shook her head. “No, no, no. I’m fine.”

“And how many times have you said that today?”

Julie chewed her lips together, not caving into the question.

Darn it. Maybe Flynn had a point.

“But it’s not like I can tell my dad because then he’ll worry and send me to a therapist again—”

“I thought you liked your therapist?” Flynn asked. “I don’t see why you stopped going.”

“Because I accepted my mother is gone,” Julie curled back into herself, pressing the pillow closer to her chest. “That she is never coming back and I need to move forward. This is me moving forward!”

“Sure it is…” Flynn eased out, wincing a little. “But you seemed a little more…I don’t know…content? Yeah, content when you went to therapy. At least towards the end, because you were working on music again, hanging out with the guys, kept a good life, music, school balance.”

“Music is my therapy.” God, those didn’t even sound like her words.

She sounded like—

“It can be, but also therapy can be therapy.” Flynn squinted at her. “You’ve been hanging out with Luke too much. I swear I have heard the phrase ‘Music is my therapy’ come out of him at least once a week.”

“Well because it is.”

“Jules,” Flynn treaded carefully, choosing her next words wisely, “don’t be like Luke who bottles things up and only lets it out when he makes music. Or Reggie who acts like everything is fine when everything is not fine. Or Alex who worries and cares too much. Be Julie.”

“And what’s being Julie?”

“Being Julie is using her voice and getting what she wants.” Flynn paused considering her answer, before nodding to herself. “At least that’s who she is to me.”

How did Flynn always have the right words? Pep-talking and hyping must have been her superpower, amongst all her other insane talents and abilities.

Flopping back against the bed, Julie’s eyes landed on the bright blue ceiling. Vast and wide like the sky.

“Being Julie…I think I can do that.”

* * *

When Julie walked back into the house later that evening, she was surprised to find the halls quiet.

No screeches. Or yelps. Or outcries.

No pew-ing and thunder from video games.

No thrumming of a bass or pounding of drums.

Nothing…just average house silence.

“Hello…” Julie called out, stepping further into the house and into the living room. “Anyone home?

Sitting on the couch, laptop open on his lap and glasses perched on his nose, he frowned at her. “ _Mija_ , what are you doing here? I thought you were spending the night at Flynn’s?”

“A change of plans happened,” she dropped her bag on the loveseat as she made her way to the longer couch, “I decided maybe I should come home.” Taking a seat beside him, she craned her neck, getting a better look around the house. “Where are the boys?”

“Some skeeball competition?” Her dad’s brows furrowed, clearly puzzled by the sudden outing. “They shouted about it before running out the door to meet Luke outside with the van. Carlos tagged along.” He gave her a small smile. “So it’s just me—well— _us_ now.”

He bumped his shoulder with hers.

Julie felt a smile tug at the corner of her lips.

“It hasn’t been just us for a while,” Julie said, hoping she didn’t sound too bothered. “But it’s okay—” _Be Julie_. _Use your voice and get what you want._ “Actually, it’s not okay.”

Her dad’s eyebrows jumped, concern etched on his face. “What’s not okay, _mija_?”

“Dad, don’t take this the wrong way, but…” She pressed her hands down on the couch, her head ducking down, “…I have sort of hated being around the guys this much.” She screwed her eyes shut. “Okay, maybe ‘hate’ is strong word, but it’s been hard and I love them being here but—but—”

“You need space.

“Yeah—” Julie paused, mid-exhale. Her eyes snapped open.

Beside her, her father shined with all too wise understanding.

He knew.

Of course he knew.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” Feeling her gnawing guilt and anxieties fade away, Julie sat up taller. “How did you know?”

“I may have heard your rant about the toilet paper this morning,” her dad confessed, an apologetic wince smeared across his face. “And you’ve been bottling up more and hiding in your room.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, bringing her to his side. She sunk into him, feeling like a little kid again, protected by her _papi’s_ warm arms. “So when you were gone, the boys and I had a little chat.”

She froze. “What?”

“Nothing bad,” he assured her, “I just reminded them about the room rules and respecting each other’s space.”

The panic clutching at her chest released. “Oh, okay.”

“And I have an idea, but you can shoot it down if you want.” He pulled away from her and turned to face her. “For some time I haven’t really been using my home office,” he nodded to closed off den, the curtain from the glass French doors concealing the contents of the room. “It’s sort of become the junk room since…” _Since Mom passed_. Julie believed her dad kept his home office for looks, or as a mere suggestion that yes he could work from home if he so desired, but he often took to making camp in the living room or dining table. He liked to be part of the house and not bottled up in a room; he liked to be somewhere for her and her brother to reach him, just a holler away. “It has a small bathroom. I have the water shut off in there, but I can always reconnect it. If you want…we can move you downstairs.”

Julie’s eyes widened. “You mean…I can move into the old office, with my own bathroom and be an _entire_ floor away from the boys?”

Her dad nodded, his own smile forming. “I figured you need that room more than I ever do,” he chuckled, “and it’d also give enough privacy and bump Alex out into his own room. It’d be a win for everyone.”

“Yes!” Julie agreed wholeheartedly, buzzing with excitement. “Yes, let do it! I like that idea a lot.” A new room, a clean slate. She’s have space and be able to feel like she could step away from the boys and not be suffocated. It was the perfect answer to her problems.

“We can go to the hardware store and pick up some paint later this week,” her dad suggested. “And I’ll start cleaning up in there tomorrow. I figured we can donate and sell some things. Give it a good clear out.”

“Yeah. Yeah that sounds good, Dad.”

_Be Julie. Use your voice and get what you want._

“Um, but that’s—that’s not the only thing I wanted to talk about.”

He dad sat up, picking up on her serious tone. She had been nearly jumping out of her seat a second earlier, but now flipped the script, remembering her second matter of business.

“I think I want to go back to therapy.”

Beside her, her dad did not seem shocker nor bothered by the request. But accepting. A quiet acceptance.

Feeling like she needed to explain herself, Julie’s mouth hurried to utter out any words that could fill the void. “Just because so much has changed and it’s a lot. Not because—not because of Mom or anything. I’m okay—well, not okay, but better with that, but I think…I think maybe I should go back. Just to have someone to talk to who isn’t,” her words halted, her lungs begging for air, “to talk to someone who isn’t here.”

“Okay,” he dad said once she finally stopped talking. He kept his expression neutral, trapped in thought. “We can do that. Do you want the same therapist or…?”

“A new one.” Julie nodded. “I think a new one would be good. Fresh start.”

“I think it will be good too.”

Her dad pressed a kiss to the top of her head. They were okay. She was going to be okay. Good change took time, and she felt maybe their family was slowly getting there, as well as their new additions.

Her dad shut his laptop, standing up from the couch. “Since it’s just us, what do you want for dinner? Your pick for take-out tonight.”

Julie smile. “You know what, Dad? Surprise me. I’m up for anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I STAN ONE (1) GIRL WITH THE VOICE OF AN ANGEL.
> 
> I seriously love Julie. She going through a lot and I think this is the first step for her to not push herself too much.
> 
> Also FLYNN IS THE BEST BFF ANYONE CAN ASK FOR.
> 
> QUESTION TIME----
> 
> Let's say I write a Juke Christmas Fic (since many of you have asked me about Juke in this fic and they are the slowest of slowburns at the moment) would y'all read it? 👀 (I may or may not already have the first chapter written.......)


	13. Morning Glory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyyyyyyyy....
> 
> Life got crazy busy, and I am working on two Christmas fics (one for this fandom and another for my other major fandom) so this was sort of put on the shelf due to that and writing frustrations concerning this chapter. Lots of rewriting, but I think I finally got what I wanted from it and y'all finally get some answers to some things 👀
> 
> Anyways....This is alot of Luke introspection. Like a lot.
> 
> Typos will be fixed later as I am in a hurry to post it and move on to the next chapter, lol.
> 
> Note: I don't own Iris by Goo Goo Dolls but I use the lyrics for ~mood~. AND I know zero French so apologies for any travesties.
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

Mornings were Luke’s safe haven.

An odd fact, sure, considering his friends all believed he loathed waking early. Hell, he pretended to sleep in whenever he spent the night at the Molina house. Just lying there, staring up at the ceiling. Waiting for his friends to wake, or at the very least Mr. Molina.

Over the last few months Luke learned mornings were easier. Especially at home.

He could wake before his mom or dad. He could slip out into the cool air before questions were thrown his way— _where did you go afterschool? When are you going to work on your audition piece? Have you finished that essay? Why won’t you talk to us?_

He could ride his bike through the streets before the rest of the world woke. The sky inky black and midnight blues, melting together into a haze. The stars invisible because of the city lights hounded the air at all times of the day, trapping the suburban neighborhoods with speckless skies.

_If you are going to be serious about auditions, I’m going to need you to be serious here._

He could bike to the closest donut shop, open at the unforgiving hour of four in the morning and buy a jelly confection, dunk it in his hot chocolate or coffee (which ever the shop had ready first) and shove it in his mouth without anyone groaning in disgust. Because apparently no one liked jelly donuts.

_You’re almost an adult Luke. You have to start thinking like one…and not act like a forever kid. Running around like you have a thousand lives to live._

Early mornings meant he could be alone before the sun peeked from the horizon and maybe catch a short nap in the band van or in the studio before heading over to school when the doors opened at seven, Alex and the rest of the band none the wiser.

_I just don’t want you to waste your life away on a pipe dream. Chasing something that might not ever happen, Luke._

However arriving early at school also meant—

“Ah, Mr. Patterson,” Miss Frances announced as she made her way towards him in small outdoor quad area between the offices and classrooms. She must have spotted Luke hiding out on one of the benches, reading. Honestly, she looked funny outside her tiny, colorful shoebox office. Her obnoxious purple paisley sweater stood stark against the bright seven in the morning sun, she somehow _feeling_ louder than ever before without even saying much. Luke was positive he’d only ever seen his counselor behind her desk; he never realized how easily she could blend in with the students if out and about on campus. “Just the student I wanted to chat with.”

Nose wrinkled, Luke kept his eyes trained on the page before him. He wasn’t fond of the book, _Ethan Frome_ , but he had to finish it and get started on his essay before anyone started breathing down his neck about it. “We don’t have a meeting today—”

“Yes, but see, you skipped out on last week’s and the week before that,” the counselor was quick to remind him. Glasses perched high on her nose, she starred down at him, daring Luke to argue with her. “And I decided to cut you some slack; I didn’t tell your parents. So I think once we tally up your misses and my cover-ups, you owe me, at the very least, one meeting.”

Damn. As much as he hated his meetings with Miss Frances she wasn’t as bad as she could be. She could have told his parents. Then it would have blown up and—

“Fine.” Luke dogeared the book and shoved the paperback into his backpack.

Satisfied, Miss Frances led the way to her office, Luke keeping a foot and a half behind. Perhaps if he kept his physical distance, she wouldn’t rope him into a conversation, even if it was idle small talk.

The short walk led to mumbling ‘good mornings’ to a couple of secretaries and a vice principal or two, before Ms. Frances opened her office door and waved for him to go in first.

He sat in the cushioned chair as Miss Frances closed the door, the blinds of her indoor windows twisted a tad open for outsiders to take a peak in. Propped on the wall opposite hung a copy of her Bachelor’s Degree—double major, Social Sciences and Education, signed May 2019—displayed for all to see.

Again, his nose wrinkled at the sight.

“So Luke, I see your grade in Literature has gone up,” Miss Frances remarked, skirting around her inherited desk. His old counselor, Mr. Kapekie, must have lugged the damn thing in himself when he was in his prime, or at the least. built the desk in the space because there was no way the oak monstrosity would ever leave without some form of demolition.

Miss Frances looked like a little kid sitting behind the desk, her hands clasped under her chin, waiting for him to say anything.

“Yeah.”

His eyes darted around the room. To the overflowing bookshelf. To the charging turquoise colored laptop on the corner of the desk. To the jar of _Jolly Ranchers_ and _Warheads_ at the edge of the desk, giving their silent offerings. To the corkboard of stacked and tacked with memos, all past date.

To the whiteboard calendar behind Miss Frances. Each of her students were a different sticker—he figured out her system by their third session. Luke was positive he was the blue star, since it was the sticker scattered about the most and at their usual meeting time.

Guilt clawed at his gut when his eyes landed on the missed meetings.

As much as he hated these meetings, he knew Miss Frances was just doing her job. And maybe she did care. A little.

Afterall, he was the only star on her calendar.

“I turned in some missing assignments last week,” Luke finally relented, knowing it was better to talk and share with Miss Frances than sit in silence. “It brought my grade up.”

Alex forced him to get his work done. His friend sat him down one evening and locked him in his and Reggie’s room and didn’t let him out until he had at least two missing assignments done. While Luke had been upset in the moment, he should have expected a reaction like that out of Alex. His best friend had a habit of focusing on others when he was bothered.

And maybe moving into the Molina household, his dad not speaking to him, and Mama Lydia now making googly eyes at Ray caused some reason to be bothered.

Luke didn’t blame Alex for wanting a distraction. He understood the need for distractions all too well.

“I saw that,” she said, a tad bit of praise in her voice. She opened up her laptop, scrolling through. In the glare of her large glasses he saw the vague image of a grade sheet. “And you must have done extremely well considering late work is docked off some points.”

He gave a shrug.

He didn’t focus on how well he did. He just got the work done.

“It seems like the same can be said for a lot of your classes. Missing work turned in, grades boosted back up. Looks like there might not be much to worry about, kiddo.”

He cringed at the term.

How could someone who was maybe only five years older than him call him ‘kiddo’?

_How do expect to get anywhere in life like this, kiddo?_

“So what changed?” Miss Frances asked. “If I may ask, that is.”

_You are throwing everything away by not—by not caring!_

“I guess…” His mouth felt dry. His eyes felt dry. He felt… _dry_. “I guess I just started to care a little more.”

From behind her screen, Miss Frances dark brows furrowed and her face pinched.

She shut her laptop and pushed it aside. “Luke, are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t even believe his own voice.

His counselor opened and closed her mouth. “As much as I am proud of the improvements of your grades and your consistent attendance to class these last two weeks, I don’t want you to push yourself.”

“I’m not pushing myself,” Luke argued, a flare of annoyance spiking within him. “I’m fine.”

“And I believe _you_ believe you are fine,” she assured him, hands braced on the flat surface of the desk. “But some of the faculty have noticed—”

“Noticed what?”

“That you’ve been coming to school a little earlier than usual,” she stated, tentative. “That you’re falling asleep in some of your classes.”

“Because…” Luke shrugged at a loss of how to defend himself. “Because I want to get to school earlier? Why is it so important?”

“All I am asking is if everything is okay at home,” Miss Frances stated, direct for once. “I know you have mentioned before you and your parents have polarized opinions on your future—”

“They think I’m throwing it away. And I bet you do too—”

“I never said that, Luke,” Miss Frances was quick to correct him, her cheery and kind demeanor slipping away for half a second. “I think you are talented and you have every right to decided what you want to do with your future. Whether that be going to college, or attending a conservatory, or choosing a different path all together. But right now you are still seventeen, still in school. Doing well right now allows you to have options later, whatever it is they may be.” She paused, lips pursed. Her glasses slipped a fraction down her nose, yet she made no move to correct the shift. Instead she turned to Luke, offering a small smile. “You know we don’t have to talk about school, grades, and colleges in here, right?”

Luke sunk further in the chair. “But isn’t that your job?”

“Yes and no.” She tilted her head side to side, her brown curls bouncing. “Some of the counselors on campus are only academic advisors, but some aren’t. I’m also someone you can talk to if anything is bothering you or you just need an ear to listen.”

Biting the inside of his cheek, Luke shook his head. “I’m fine, Miss Frances.”

“Okay,” she nodded once, a forced smile directed to him. “Well, if you change your mind, I’m usually here by seven and my door is always open.”

Luke decided he’d _never_ take Miss Frances up on her offer.

* * *

The following morning, when Luke biked up to the donut shop, he found a familiar face waiting in line.

Through the window he saw Miss Frances smiling and chatting with the owner, she shoving a couple of bills into the tip jar before picking up her box of donuts and a to-go cup.

Just as she turned to the glass door, Luke peddled as fast as he could, as far away as his legs could take him.

He needed to find a new donut shop to stalk.

* * *

The next morning turned out to be no better.

He decided to stop by the Molina house—no one woke up until at least six-thirty, and even then Ray wasn’t super coherent until he had at least two cups of coffee in his system—and crash in the studio for a half hour before making his way to school. Maybe work on a song or two while he killed the time.

Except he hadn’t expected Julie of all people to be awake, playing away at the piano at five in the morning.

Still in pajamas and reading glasses on, she looked nice. Luke found himself watching from the door windows, knowing he was maybe intruding, but realized he hadn’t seen Julie so relaxed and calm for quite some time.

Lost to the world, she hummed away, scribbling down a couple of words and trying them out on the keys.

“ _You set me free…”_ She frowned, nose scrunching. “ _You set me free…you and me together is more than_ …”

Keys slammed, roaring in the room.

“Ugh—forget. Forget it.” Papers shuffled, a pen thrown across the room. “I’ll write more of it tomorrow or later,” she crumpled a piece of paper, crushing it into a tight ball, “or _never_!”

With a grunt she threw the paper out the cracked open studio door.

The ball bounced a few feet, landing out of her sight and less than a foot away from Luke.

He picked it up and tucked in into his pocket before she could see a thing.

The melody she’d been playing started once again, however, the keys took a somber turn.

Knowing he’d overstayed his quiet welcome, Luke climbed back on his bike and left. He didn’t need Julie finding him outside or worse, Ray.

(It wasn’t until he was alone in the music room, prior to school starting, did Luke open up the crumpled paper.

_Perfect Harmony_ was written at the top in Julie’s loopy handwriting.

Few lines were written. More of a stream of though than anything comprehensible.

_I feel your rhythm in my heart_

_I never knew a love so real_

_We say we’re friends_

His face became flush at the scattered, scribbled, and erased then rewritten lyrics.

As though Julie didn’t want to put those thoughts down on paper.

Was she talking about him? Was she writing about someone else? Love? Love wasn’t something to take lightly in the slightest.

Deciding it was best to leave the paper—the would be song—alone, Luke folded the crumpled sheet music into a tiny square and shoved it in his copy of _Ethan Frome_.

It could always work as a bookmark right?)

* * *

“ _Hey, dude_.”

A rough hand shoved his shoulder.

Luke jumped. His pencil clattered to the floor along with his French textbook.

Luckily no one paid any mind, watching the film playing on the overhead screen with rapt interest. He’d never been more grateful for Friday Film-Day in French 3.

In the desk beside him, Reggie frowned, picking up the dropped textbook. “Here,” he handed it over to Luke, “that’s like the third time you’ve fallen asleep during class this week,” he whispered, dropping his head low so _Professeur_ Collins wouldn’t notice them talking.

“Sorry,” Luke mumbled, tucking the textbook back under his crossed arms. He rested his head down, glancing over at Reggie. “Just been staying up late to finish homework. You know my parents, got to keep my grades up.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Reggie nodded, however he didn’t seem convinced. “But you’re never this tired, dude.”

“I’m fine,” Luke muttered, giving a side grin and half shrug. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Okay…” Reggie drawled out. “If you want we can reschedule rehearsal today. I’m sure Jules and Alex wouldn’t mind. We were actually talking about it at breakfast—”

“You guys were talking band stuff without me?”

Reggie snapped his mouth shut, a flash of guilt in his eyes. Keeping his head low, he attempted to cobble up an apology. “Kind of? It’s sort of hard not to when we’re all there. Except for you. Sometimes it just comes up.”

“Oh.”

That was understandable. Sort of.

Alex, Reggie, and Julie all lived together. Sure, Luke spent most of his afternoons at the Molina house and would spend the night on most weekends, but if he learned anything over the last three weeks _living-with-the-Molina’s_ and _sort-of-living-with-the-Molina’s_ were two entirely different things.

Because he missed out on things. Like rescheduling a rehearsal.

But that wasn’t anyone’s fault, right? Then why did it feel like it was.

“Julie has a doctor’s appointment this afternoon—”

“Is she okay?” Luke near yelped.

In the desk in front of them, Carrie whipped around, hair whooshing in the air.

“ _Monsieur_ Reginald, tell _Monsieur_ Lucas to hush up!” she hissed, only to smile and bat her eyelashes half a second later. “Please?”

Reggie turned into a puddle of boyish giggles. “ _Oui, oui_!” He turned to Luke, eyes desperate. “You need to be quiet dude or we’ll get in trouble.”

“With who?” Luke shot back. “The teacher or Carrie?”

Reggie seemed at a loss for words. “Uh…”

“ _Monsieur_ Lucas,” _Professeur_ Collins announced in her eerie calm and collect voice that could send the darkest of nightmares when provoked. She stepped up to Luke’s desk, lips pursed in a deep frown. “I am hearing talking over here, and don’t think I didn’t noticed you fell asleep.”

“Oh, that.” Luke ran a hand through his hair, hoping to appear apologetic. “I’m sorry?”

She set down a yellow slip on his desk. Signed and ready for him to go to Miss Frances and get out his French teacher’s hair. “Stop distracting you classmates and go see your counselor.”

Huffing, Luke snatched the yellow slip and gathered his belongings.

He ignored both Reggie and Carrie’s concerned glances. They’d probably end up telling the rest of the band and their friends what happened, unfortunately so.

* * *

“Here ya go, kid.” A donut and small to-go cup of plain black coffee was placed before him. Looking up Luke found the owner of the donut shop looking down at him. His close shave bushy white and gray speckled mustache and beard reminded him of a friendly, maybe more modern Santa Clause.

Luke perked. He hadn’t planned on stopping by the donut shop after school; the warm and welcoming place was more of an early morning haunt than mid-afternoon hangout. But after sitting outside Miss Frances office until the end of his last class, stewing and thinking about how he’d be lectured by Alex, Julie, maybe Mr. Molina, and of course his mother, going anywhere that remotely felt like ‘home’ blared as a big no-no in his mind. So he went to the only place he knew none of his friends or family would find him. “Oh, thanks. You didn’t need to do that—”

“You pop in every week day, and when you didn’t come in the other day I got concerned.” He chuckled a little, a small smile twisting at the corner of his mouth. “Let me know if you need anything, kid.”

Luke nodded, the man patting his shoulder before heading back behind the counter.

In the quiet and near empty donut shop, Luke ate his jelly filled donut.

His phone pinged.

A message from Reggie.

Another from Alex. He’d been texting non-stop—Luke left him on read.

A couple of text messages came from Julie right after school released for the day, probably questioning about what happened in French class. He didn’t open them. Better to pretend he didn’t see them, than try to fumble his way through as a lie as to why he didn’t reply to her when he did eventually see them all. Probably see them all tomorrow at school since he was already out of the loop with well…out of the loop with what seemed to be everything.

Soft-rock came through the overhead speakers of the donut shop, a quiet, almost nonexistent thrum to those who did not listen closely. But when music played Luke always listened. Always.

The local soft rock radio ran through what seemed to be the same ten songs every hour, _Iris_ by Goo Goo Dolls one of the most popular in the rotation.

_“And I don't want the world to see me  
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand  
When everything's made to be broken  
I just want you to know who I am…”_

Mid-chew, his eyes stung.

He swallowed his mouthful, drank his coffee, and turned off his phone.

* * *

When he was bored, sitting alone in his room in the middle of the night, unable to sleep, Luke wrote in his journal (Not the one his backstabber of a former friend stole, but a new one. One Carlos handed to him in passing once he realized maybe he and the guys were going to stick around longer than a brief jam session once a week. _“My mom had a bunch of empty ones saved. Someone should use them.”_ ).Sometimes he even read what he wrote in the past because sometimes it was easier to figure things out from forever ago when it was written down on a bound piece of paper.

Also, Luke believed he was the funniest person he knew, and reading what he had written in the past brought a few chuckles, maybe made people and situations in his life less complicated than they felt a few days prior. But it also brought a few flushed of embarrassment along with it.

Was it terrible he had July 16th dogeared, like some lovesick tween-age girl, with a crude heart scribbled out in corner?

Because July 16th was the awesome-est and worst day ever. The verdict was still out, even with months between the moment, and awkwardness and tension filling the time and space between him and Julie since the incident. He re-read and re-read and re-read what he wrote—how he and the guys planned a movie night with Julie, but one by one they each bailed, leaving he and Julie alone to watch _Clueless_ because somehow neither had seen it despite Reggie claiming it was one of his favorite movies ever and how they needed to _“absolutely see it to see how ‘as if’ needs to make a comeback_ ”.

(Reggie liking _Clueless_ was not a quality or fact Luke ever thought he’d learn about one his best friends. But Reggie had a love for rom-coms that was incomparable to anyone else he knew. He should have guessed he’d like one with fun characters and bright 90’s color palette.)

He tried not to flush with embarrassment as he stuttered out how he liked Julie because maybe this was the only chance he’d ever have to get it out without the guys knowing and maybe, just maybe she sort of liked him back too but—

They knew it wasn’t a good idea. There was the band, so new and so great, and then there was their friends, and everyone— _everyone_ —knew bandmates liking and following through on those feelings and merging into the dating territory was a bad, bad idea.

Then there was the fact he was older. Not much, just two years, but enough for Julie to feel… _inadequate_. Immature in comparison.

Her words. Not his. Never his.

She was possibly the most mature person he knew. Wiser than fifteen, almost sixteen, years old.

So the conversation ended like that—with a “Let’s pretend we didn’t just say that,” and both feeling crushed for crushing their own feelings like a mushy grape—and they watched another movie.

Only to fall asleep.

And for Ray to find them.

And their friends to find out, though with vague details, that their quiet plan for Julie and Luke to confess feelings went sideways to some degree.

Thus led to the ridiculous accusations that something happened, i.e. maybe they kissed, maybe they more than kissed, maybe-maybe-maybe.

When really, nothing—except awkward heartbreak—happened at all.

Luke scowled at the date July 16th.

He was half tempted to scribble out the entry because at that moment July 16th felt like the last real normal day before…before life began to change. Before the band got more attention, before Reggie’s parents left him, before he felt left behind by everyone else. Because Alex was falling in love with a guy who really liked him, Reggie had something with Carrie—as weird and strange that sounded; he was still trying to wrap his head around _that one_ —and graduation was around the corner with auditions silently hanging over his lead like a looming death.

He felt like he was still a teenager and didn’t have change resting on his shoulder, pushing him to make a move. A move any direction so he wouldn’t get crushed by the reality of life.

So Luke un-dogeared the page. He flipped to a new blank page and wrote.

He wrote how he felt. He wrote about this odd disconnect from everyone and everything he was feeling.

He wrote until his hand went sore and cramped. Maybe there was a song trapped between the words. Maybe there was nothing but gibberish, his hand writing ghastly.

But he wrote because that was all he knew how to do without failing.

* * *

He hated himself for taking up her offer, but he didn’t want to be alone. He was kind of tired of being alone in the mornings. They’d lost a bit of their luster over the last week and a half.

Luke sat in the plastic chair outside her door. It was just a little after seven in the morning; the school grounds had just opened and the offices were open, the administration secretaries typing away on their computers, sending polite yet slightly concerned smiles towards Luke when he passed by.

They knew him well enough to recognize him, but not enough to strike up a conversation to pass the time.

It wasn’t until fifteen past seven did Miss Frances make her way to her office, bright emerald green and ivory striped sweater hard to miss in the muted blue and red toned office. Two mismatched canvas tote bags were slung over one shoulder, while she carried large pink bakery box and cup of coffee in her hand.

“Mr. Patterson, what an unexpected visit.” She struggled for a moment, attempting to reach for her keys in her garish pink plaid pea coat pocket. Huffing, she passed off the bakery box to him, Luke near dropping the box at the sudden shove. She produced her office keys in moments, unlocking her door in a breeze. The motion detector lights flickered on, the florescent bulbs swathing the office in a clinical glare. “Come on in,” she motioned him to follow.

Luke followed as told, setting the box on her desk. Shucking off her bags and jacket, she opened the box, donuts inside.

“Go ahead and get what to want,” she order, dropping a stack of floral paper napkins beside the box, “there is plenty, and I cannot eat over a dozen donuts by myself.”

Carefully Luke scanned the box, eyes landing on the familiar sugar coated, jelly filled donut. Grabbing a napkin he plucked it out and took a seat in the chair across from Miss Frances.

She plucked her own donut—an chocolate coated old fashion—and sat down.

“What brings you in today?” she asked between mouthfuls, booting up her laptop with one hand.

Luke shrugged, not yet eating his donut. “You said I can stop by, if I wanted to, if I came early. Your door is always open.”

The counselor paused, a flash of surprise behind her glasses. “I did say that. I just didn’t think you’d take it up.” She seemed to hesitate. “It has came to my attention that maybe you aren’t one to open up. And that’s okay, Luke. I’m not going to force you.”

“Cool.”

He took a bite out of his donut and pulled out his copy of _Ethan Frome_ from his backpack; he needed to get the essay done soon if he wanted to focus on rehearsal and keep his mother’s questions at bay.

A crumpled piece of sheet music fell out from between the book’s pages, and tumbled under the desk, hidden in the shadows, left unnoticed by either Luke or his counselor.

A piece of music forgotten. For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhh! So much emotions...gosh Luke, what are we going to do with you?
> 
> Another Note: I KNOW THE INSTAGRAM ANNOUNCED THE BOY'S LAST NAMES, but I am not sure if I'll change them in here. I kind of like the one's I picked and tbh I think there is something special about fic's pre-more info, lol. 
> 
> And yes, I know I added a small OC (Miss Frances) but I sort of love decent adults who help in small ways and I wanted to show people at school, outside of his friends, have noticed Luke's behavior/attitude even if it is just his well-meaning counselor he doesn't really like.
> 
> Let me know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are always appreciated; love discussing the fic with readers!


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